Dragon Wars
by yongzhi93
Summary: Malygos has declared war on Dalaran, for festering with magicwielding humans. The Red Dragonflight has opted to defend Dalaran in the upcoming war. What will be the outcome, as two recovering dragonflights vie for supremacy?
1. Spying

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 1: Spying**

Little red flies flitted about in the landscape, all hovered over a gargantuan, solid cave in the mountains. There was much activity about the cavern, but there didn't seem to be anything happening about the mountain to normal eyes.

However, the eyes the spies had were anything but normal. They were experienced and ancient, fuelled by the magic wielded by the ones the eyes belonged to, they perceived a very different reality, of which crimson energy flowed around the mountainous region. A blinding, pulsating red barrier surrounded the opening of the grandiose cavern, shielding those within from sight. Meanwhile, a masterfully constructed illusion hung over the cavern, declaring it to be merely another rocky face of the mountain, ordinary and common. The crimson dragons arriving at the cavern had their own ways to avoid detection.

To the spies who were observing them closely now, however, those methods were infantile, almost laughable. The intricacies of magic-wielding were clearly not well-explored for the red drakes who were acting as sentry. One spy nearly coughed, but managed to calm himself.

The spies were in position to observe the activity clearly. Dyralos was a large boulder, surrounded by other small rocks, at the foot of the mountain. He was the younger of the two, and constantly itched due to using magic which he did not grasp perfectly. Cynthyaz was a cunning one. She also posed as a boulder, but unlike her compatriot, she was on the mountain itself, daringly right next to the crimson shield, on a rocky ledge. She gambled that the crimson dragons would not be idiotic enough to bump right into a boulder in the midst of such important activity.

The role the two spies held was extremely vital. With the red dragons declaring themselves on the side of the human magicians, on the pretext that they cared for all life, (though Lord Maligns knew better – they owed a favour to the humans), the silver-blue dragons had to take quick action. Thus, Cynthyaz and Dyralos – two of Lord Malygos' trusted – were dispatched to carry out spying action directly on the home (and base) of the red dragons.

It had paid off well. The spying had garnered new information about battle tactics – it was clear when flocks of red dragons were flying together. They intended to defend Dalaran, instead of leading an offensive into Northrend. Well, that showed that Alexstrasza clearly wasn't a fool. Challenging the blue flight in Northrend would be laughable – while the weather by itself was only slightly ticklish to the reds, the blues could manipulate it quickly to become a frozen tomb for all the red dragons. And since the blues had magical superiority, it made sense for the battleground to take place in a region where their allies at least had advantage. Who knew what magical traps had been set in Northrend? The moment Lord Malygos had returned from his self-induced stupor, the first thing he had done was to secure Northrend. The blue dragonflight now controlled a significant portion of Northrend, and even the Scourge's minions were smart enough to keep away. While it was told that the Lich King and his elite guard, the Liches, had enormous psychic powers and the ability to control the frost elements, Lord Malygos could reverse every spell sent back at them, with twice the frostbite. And his immense powers were certainly greater than even the newest avatar of the Lich King's, the corrupted human prince.

Dyralos was fidgeting again, and Cynthyaz could see his illusion fade just a tiny bit. She suppressed the irritation that grew quickly. Dyralos was a youngling, a new-born – he was merely twelve decades old. He had not yet fully learnt the patience and skill of the adults, even though in raw power he was growing quickly to rival Cynthyaz. He also had few experiences outside Northrend, and this major assignment was clearly one of the first times he had been in a climate which was _not_ in the least chilly. Cynthyaz supposed it was to be expected, given the blues' aversion to warm climates and the complexity of the disguise spell. The spell was weaved by the Lord himself, in order that detection would be impossible for all but Alexstrasza. However, since it was known Alexstrasza was busy rebuilding the red flight, and now that she was also maintaining the barrier and illusion, it was clear she was in no position to detect their presence. Besides, Lord Malygos also had another trick weaved into that spell: it disguised their life-force as miniature life-forms, like earthworms. Only Alexstrasza would be sensitive enough to sense the magic; the other reds took it at face-value.

Dyralos was starting to get worse now. They had only been in place for a week, but the power Lord Malygos had imbued into the spell was nearly used up, and the blue dragons had to maintain the complex spell themselves. Cynthyaz was used to this, for she had been a rouge blue drake fighting many battles before coming under the Lord's wing. But Dyralos was a complete newbie, and he was clearly starting to feel the strain of fuelling the spell.

Although it was potentially dangerous to do so, Cynthyaz reached out and tried to sense Dyralos' remaining energies. There would be two replacements in another week, and she tried to urge him to hold on mentally while she tried to see through Lord Malygos's spell to sense his remaining energy. Dyralos returned that there was not much of a problem – he was merely lonesome, tired, and bored. Cynthyaz sighed – it had to be a disease younglings contracted, this boredom – and insisted on attempting once again to see if Dyralos was truly fine. One poor judgement could cost the entire mission.

That was when a red dragon suddenly materialized and opened its maw wide, right in front of Dyralos. He was obviously a mature male, and sleek, with burning scales. His presence could not be sensed, and the fact that he had managed the feat of appearing without the spies noticing bode ill. He had to be Korialstrasz, one of the few mature reds left. They had obviously greatly underestimated Korialstrasz, despite knowing that he was the most trusted of Alexstrasza's flight and had undergone a mission for Nozdormu before.

It was time to execute the backup plan, the plan if they were discovered. Cynthyaz leapt from her ledge, her large, leathery wings spanning the boulder-illusion she had assumed. All other reds would see was a boulder falling down, not an uncommon sight. She prepared a stun-spell –

A gust of wind knocked her backward. But it was no normal gust of wind – it was clearly magical in origin. There was no choice, now. The façade clearly could not be maintained. She opened her maw and spouted a blast of freezing air, magnifying the frost magics innate in her frost-breath with her own powers. Meanwhile, she abandoned her caution and hovered in the air, gathering more power, for a bigger distraction.

Korialstrasz didn't even bat an eye. The flame-breath from his maw shot forth, into the suddenly silvery-blue boulder. A cyan shield materialized, blocking off the flame attack. Cynthyaz gave a draconic smirk – Korialstrasz might have studied magic with the humans for a while, but that was nothing compared to blue-dragon magic education.

So she was definitely shocked when the shield failed abruptly. A loud whimper of pain shot out from Dyralos, loud enough that the dragons outside the Red Dragon base snapped their heads and flew down to support Korialstrasz. Nobody noticed that there was a floating boulder.

Cynthyaz reached out with her deeper senses, and realized that Korialstrasz had planned it well. The breath out of his mouth was just a flame breath, and any dragon worth his salt knew that would hardly be sufficient for tickling if the opponent knew magic. And he was dealing with a _blue_ dragon, whose magic were their lifeblood. There had been a powerful beam in that breath that had burnt a hole right through Dyralos' wing. It was miniscule, the size of a rock, but it certainly hurt. And distracted Dyralos. There was only one thing to do now. She let loose the powers she had gathered, before seizing Dyralos with an invisible hand, throwing him in her direction. Without waiting to see if Dyralos was following, the unordinary boulder disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Meanwhile, the icy-breath was about to hit Korialstrasz when a shield of flame materialized and warded it off. Korialstrasz sensed danger from above, and saw several icy meteors about to hit the home caverns. As Cynthyaz had surmised, Korialstrasz immediately forgot about the blue dragon he had caught in his immobilizing spell and concentrated on reinforcing Alexstrasza's shield with his own considerable powers. He sensed the other red dragons doing so as well, after he had roared mentally for them to join in the effort. The meteors struck with great force – which showed that the caster was rather powerful – but glanced off the barrier, now supported by over twenty dragons.

But Cynthyaz's objective in that little trick had been achieved – both Cynthyaz and Dyralos now found themselves teleported back to Northrend.

Korialstrasz shook his great head. Blue dragons. He had sensed something wrong with the life-energies outside the Red Caverns, of course, but he had not chalked it up to anything other than paranoia inherited from the humans. It seemed that humans did have paranoia for a reason, after all. The blue dragons had certainly hid themselves well. If not for a momentary blurring in the landscape and a subsequent change in the life-force of two boulders, he might have just ignored them. As it was, the frost-breath attack directed at him spoke of skill which newborns did not possess. Malygos must have found some renegades who were willing to serve under him. It had been only slightly more than a century that his own eggs had hatched into younglings.

He flapped his wings and soared into the caverns. He had nearly forgotten the very reason he returned to his queen. Besides the primary reason, of course. As always, his queen greeted him kindly.

"Dear Korial, how fare you? I sensed some battle outside our very own caverns."

"My queen, my love. There were two spies, of the blue dragonflight. We succeeded in identifying them; however, we did not manage to capture them."

"That's all right, my love. What is it you came for?"

Korialstrasz paused. The news was rather disturbing.

"It seems that the human mages are playing with magic again. Thanks to information from the leader of Theramore, the wizard Jaina Proudmoore, the Kirin Tor has now spells from the Meitre scrolls, and those of de-aging magics. Drenden and Modera have been trying to get the secret after experimenting with that young Khadgar, who was forcibly aged. However, the field wasn't identical and their successes limited. I'm afraid that now they have such magic, they will start growing even greater ambitions. The egos of human wizards are extremely large."

Alexstrasza looked thoughtful. "From whom did they receive such magic? I know of few non-dragon races that might have had access to such magic… high elves? Or night elves?"

"According to my sources, Aegwynn the Guardian has been found."

Alexstrasza's eyes abruptly widened in shock. "Aegwynn? The one who fought with us in that large battle? Four centuries ago?"

"Apparently so. She managed to live for so long with the help of de-aging magic. According to my intelligence, she was the one who brought Medivh back, such that he could rally the races to unite against the second incursion of the foul Legion."

"Hmm. She will be a great buffer against Malygos' forces."

"She has no more power left, apparently. All were used in battling and resurrecting Medivh. She even resorted to using her life-force to power Proudmoore, in a recent battle with a demon."

Alexstrasza seemed rather surprised, but said no more.

"As of now, thanks to the discovery of the blue dragons, we may safely assume Malygos has full knowledge of our plans not to invade. I recommend that we keep it that way."

Alexstrasza was an Aspect, and she nodded in assent. "Any changes would not only be demoralizing to the humans, they would mess up well-laid plans, and Malygos would certainly have preparations in any case, given that his spies have been discovered."

"However, I propose that aid be requested from Ysera and her green flight."

Alexstrasza sighed. "I have communicated with my sister, but she does not wish to be involved in what she sees as a war fought over something insignificant – use of magic."

"Tell her, then, that if she does not help, human cities will be destroyed. And humans are the most versatile of the mortal races currently; they dream the biggest. Perhaps that would work."

"Perhaps. That might sway her somewhat." Alexstrasza agreed. "But I think that the counsel of the consort might be continued some other time. We have work to do, love. You know that. The eggs were delivered last week, and more must be produced.

Korialstrasz grinned roguishly. There was an advantage to being the only consort capable of helping father red drakes. His tail cuddled Alexstrasza's affectionately.

"Certainly, my queen."


	2. Council

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 2: Council**

The High Council of the Kirin Tor of Dalaran convened in a strange room. It had no exit and no entrance, no holes and no imperfections. It was a scene in the clouds, where the weather changed for no reason whatsoever. The room was well known for stunning inept novices, astounding young magicians, and being disregarded entirely by the veteran councillors.

The ruling council was a powerful force in Dalaran – the rulers of Dalaran, in fact. Dalaran was one of the few city-states in the Alliance – probably the only one – but its prowess rivalled any other human nation. Dalaran, birthplace of all human wizards, was a magical city in its own right, built and powered by magic. The only faction within Dalaran was the Kirin Tor, ruled by the ruling council, and thus the ruling council held power over Dalaran. In this case, it usually applied literally as well.

The most notable members of previous councils had included Archmage Antonidas, the ruler of a previous council during a golden age, Kel-thuzad, now lich and lieutenant to the Lich King, traitor to Dalaran, Krasus, an enigmatic wizard who usually had the best interests of the Alliance at heart, though his personal agendas other than his spouse were unknown, Prince Kael'thas, who had defected with the blood elves to the orcish camp, thanks to the unruly actions of the pompous fool Garitos, Drenden, the former master of the Kirin Tor ruling council, and Modera, another aged but powerful wizard. Drenden and Modera had, in fact, been instrumental in exposing the traitorous Kel-thuzad, who now wielded powers well beyond most wizards. Kel-thuzad and the turncoat Prince Arthas had returned to Dalaran only to wreck it, turning it into a city of undead. Only recent actions had managed to liberate Dalaran from the Scourge, and the Kirin Tor was still reeling from that blow.

Of the members present, three were new. The replacements were for Prince Kael-thas, Archmage Antonidas and Kel-thuzad, and the other members were still wary of them.

"Krasus, you and Rhonin are to be commended – no, congratulated – by me personally, for this latest feat achieved. Getting an audience with the Red Dragonflight's Queen! Amazing. And securing their help with our latest conflict with the Blue Dragonflight? Astounding!"

Modera scowled at this. She was quite unhappy with the amount of praise Krasus and his mentee Rhonin had been receiving, but she could not complain. After all, they _had_ accomplished a great amount.

"Red dragons have taken up positions. We have ten elite drakes constantly circling our skies, while twenty-four are on the plains. They have rather large appetites." The new speaker winced at the last – the wildlife population of Dalaran's fertile plains had seen a large drop in recent weeks.

Krasus and Rhonin grinned at this, but the only thing visible was a slight rippling in their masks. It was part of the theatrics, but also to secure the meeting. Not that the meeting was very secure, with magical beings abound. In fact, Krasus would bet his tail that no more than three or four of the council were really 'secure' when exposed to a good mature red drake. Probably none if exposed to him.

Of course, they were _always_ exposed to him. Like right now. Krasus smirked at the thought, then shook his head furiously. His thought processes nowadays were just as narrow and constrained as these humans. He sighed.

Drenden looked curiously at this out-of-character loss of control displayed by Krasus amusedly, but no one else seemed to notice. A storm rumbled.

"What do the red dragons intend to do?" This was a feminine voice.

Four faces turned to look at the speaker incredulously, as if they were waiting for her to smack her head.

"Obviously I don't mean that I don't know the dragons' prowess!" Modera grinded out in frustration. "I'm very familiar with them – parleyed with three or so, in fact! But how do they plan to fight the blues? And, for that matter, how do we?"

Drenden snorted, but Krasus nodded sagely. "The blue dragons are different from the red dragons. Besides obvious differences in physique, and colour, they represent different things."

"You might as well tell me they have different wing spans. Stop being so cryptic! You're telling us _nothing_! And I'd doubt even _you_ would know their physique." Modera was well-known to be short-tempered and holding a grudge against Krasus for besting her at mostly everything.

"Let Krasus speak. But I doubt it'd be much different from the ones we fought…"

"No. The blue dragons are immature, but not as immature as the red drakes you fought during the aftermath of the Second War. No, these blue dragons are sufficiently aged with plausible powers. Plus, the Blue Dragonflight represents magic and their intricacies. The blue drakes knowledge of magic alone, not counting their Lord Malygos' knowledge, probably rivals every bit of knowledge on magic gathered by all humans in their entire existence, including that contained in every one of the famed tomes in Medivh's library."

Modera seemed furious at that. "You talk about us as 'humans'. Not as 'us'. You're very arrogant, even for one of your kind."

Rhonin hastily stifled a chuckle. No doubt Modera thought Krasus a high-elf. "Krasus has much to be proud of. His accomplishments are great."

Modera seethed and looked as if she were to rebut that, when Drenden stepped in. "Alright, this is a convention of the elite of the Kirin Tor. I wonder if the elite behave like mere novices involved in a minor squabble. There is no need for argument."

"Very well. As I was saying, the Blue Dragonflight represents magic –"

"How would _you_ know? Asked them?" Modera sneered derisively.

"As a matter of fact, I did." Krasus gauged Modera's sufficiently shocked expression, before continuing.

"The Blue Dragonflight's lair is in Northrend. The reason the Red Dragonflight chooses to place its defence here, in Dalaran, is simple. Firstly, Dalaran is in the heart of the Alliance, extremely near Lordaeron's Capital City. The Blues will have to swamp and penetrate many human defences before reaching."

"Secondly, the climate here is vastly different from Northrend's climate. They will be uncomfortable, and they will not be very much at home. Their spell-casting may be affected."

"Oh, not being _at home_, unlike us, helps _us_! They won't destroy our homes!" Modera sniffed derisively.

Krasus continued as if there wasn't any interruption. "They will not be able to manipulate the elements as easily as if they were in Northrend. However, the Red Dragons are quite at ease here. Meanwhile, they are also susceptible to preparations we conceive. And we get to choose the battleground, as they are the aggressors."

Drenden nodded in understanding; Modera writhed in confusion and fury.

"We need every advantage we can get on our side. Also, this incursion also ensures that they will have to battle another magic-wielding race, true to their calling."

"You would sacrifice the _high elves_ for us?" Modera's jaw dropped. Another councillor winced; he had been thus far unsuccessful in persuading his people to wake up to the threat posed by the Blue Dragonflight.

"Not _sacrifice_. Persuade. As of now, they have refused to agree to support us should the blue dragons invade."

Drenden nodded again. Wan sunlight shone through, lighting the clouds.

Usually, given the face-masks each councillor wore to protect their identities, a nod would not be perceptible. In order to show it, a portion of the mask had to be dropped while still concealing the face, and Drenden was a master. This public, outward show of praise for Krasus was too much for Modera, especially since it was the second time.

"How _strategic_, Krasus. How _patriotic_ you are."

"As I said, the Blues represent magic, and Lord Malygos, the Hand of Magic, rules them. Of the five dragonflights, therefore, they are the best spell-casters, even better than the red dragons you've fought."

"Spellcasting!" Modera seemed intent on having a shouting session. It had to be the lack of estrogen, given her age, thought Rhonin cynically. "Indeed, the red dragons cast spells so well, that I felt a tickle from the breeze! They don't cast spells! Are you an _idiot_?"

The last was too much. Drenden scolded, "Modera!", but before he could continue Krasus stepped into the conversation. Now a blizzard was howling through them.

"No, it's all right. I am perfectly willing to alleviate concerns about our _allies'_ powers. Red dragons cast magic extremely well. The ones you fought were likely younglings. In fact, the only red dragons the humans collectively as a race fought were younglings. Dragons take a couple of centuries to mature. Except the blue dragons, whose magical strength and skill grow exponentially faster than the rest of the flights."

Modera took Krasus's subtle implication as an insult. "Are you saying that I can't beat a _mature_ dragon? Bring him on, then! If he were in this very room I doubt he'd last ten seconds!" A low wind started up, and given the force of Modera's fury no one suspected that it was another of the room's theatrics.

The other council members stared at Krasus and Modera. It was a tense silence, and all of the councillors could sense the power that was gathering in Modera. But Krasus was undoubtedly better – no one could even sense Krasus anymore. Modera likely chalked it up to sensing herself too much.

The silence was broken by a chuckle from Rhonin. Everyone looked at him incredulously, except Modera and Krasus, and Rhonin said, "I advise you don't try that, Modera."

That was the last straw. Modera smirked and let loose a stream of fire and light, rushing as a wave towards Krasus. The other council members readied their shields – but it was too late; Modera's spell struck Krasus.

Or rather, struck where Krasus had been before. Modera stared in shock. "He got roasted that easily?"

"Teleport." This was grunted from Drenden.

"Coward!"

"No." Krasus appeared behind Modera, one hand on the back of her bare neck. "One more such showing and I'll retaliate."

Modera gasped, and whirled, readying another blast. The other council members watched fearfully: while Modera was undoubtedly powerful, the scope of Krasus' powers was entirely unknown.

"Since you insist a mature red is easy to beat, Modera, why don't you try Krasus on?" Rhonin drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Modera looked shocked. But Krasus was already transforming, becoming a gigantic red leviathan. Scales rippled and expanded, until a gigantic red drake stood before them.

"Well, Modera?" Krasus, via complex spellwork, could cause the air to vibrate such that it mimicked a human voice. A slight breeze tickled them all, but no one gave it any attention. Shock reverberated throughout the room, exuding from all except Rhonin. Rhonin seemed tickled; his amused expression was nothing short of ridiculous in this setting.

"So what!" Modera was all bluster now; everyone could sense it.

Krasus sighed. "Rhonin, that was foolish. It's the third time already."

Drenden blinked. "Third time?"

"Do what you always do then, master. Admit it, the discussion was useless. Preserve the earlier part before the action. In their subconscious minds, of course; subconscious information usually surfaces in danger."

The dragon sighed. All the council members stared incredulously, until their eyes went blank. Drenden was the last to go – he staggered about drunkenly before resting. Resistance was futile, for Korialstrasz the dragon had millennia of experience trafficking with magic. Their memories were stripped and the conversation locked away in their subconscious safely.

There came an almost imperceptible, familiar sigh.

"Rhonin…"


	3. Malygos

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 3: Malygos**

The harsh climate rendered the place seemingly uninhabitable. It seemed that way at first, until one saw the frozen carcass help itself up, a jumble of bones and sinew of some long-forgotten predator. The macabre figure started stalking in a clear direction, before a breath of frost blasted it to bits.

Cynthyaz shook her wide maw at the necromantic powers. The Scourge must have a few suicidal necromancers in their ranks, to risk animating the dead this deep in Blue Dragonflight territory. She jumped up, giving herself a boost with powerful talons, and winged it to the Flight's lair. Dyralos was ahead of her, but so overjoyed to be home he was that he was practically dancing in the air.

Cynthyaz watched him like a loving mother, and shook her head. They had important work to do. She nudged Dyralos, and they both landed in front of a seemingly innocent plain. Roaring an ancient spell, Cynthyaz gestured with her wings at the giant opening in the ground that was once a hole. She then appeased the safeguards and barriers with her identity, and Dyralos soon followed suit. In the web of caverns that housed the Blue Dragonflight, it was easy to get lost and die a horrible death to the magical traps set everywhere. However, Cynthyaz and especially Dyralos knew their way around, having lived here for a substantial amount of time.

Dyralos acted like a lovesick hatchling, worming his way around and stopping every few seconds to admire this crystal formation or gaze at another icy outcrop. Cynthyaz shook her great head in disgust; while she _was_ extremely happy to be home, they had a mission failure to report.

She touched Dyralos with her wing, giving him the mental equivalent of an irritated snort. He sighed, and continued going through the web of caverns. Only until they were close by the main chambers did the lack of activity surprise them.

Moving into the main home chambers, they saw a shocking sight. Sprawled on the ground were several mature blue dragons, their injuries proof of recent battle. It was clear that there had been an attack on the home caverns. Cynthyaz hurried along the familiar pathways, dreading what she would see ahead, ignoring Dyralos' futile attempts to mentally persuade her to slow down.

Her horror and dread grew with each winding twist and turn. Quite a few blues were downed, with signs of recent battle clear. Splatters of blood were visible on the icy outcrops, signs of magic-casting reminiscent in the very air. She could easily divine the difference between magical ice and normal ice. Yet all the evidence pointed to the blue dragons fighting each other. Was there a coup? Would her Dragonflight – could it – possible be that idiotic? There were no enemy carcasses, after all, no sign of plausible enemies at all.

Cynthyaz all but rushed into Lord Malygos's private quarters.

Malygos stood, coolly triumphant and icily furious, towering over a lone figure cowering in front of him. Cynthyaz recognized the figure – it was Sylvanas! The Banshee raised by Arthas! No wonder she didn't see any enemy corpses.

The chain of events that must have transpired was now crystal clear. Sylvanas must have attempted another ill-fated attempt to invade the Scourge base. Having suffered veritable losses, she led her forces in retreat to the Blue Dragons' home caverns.

Cynthyaz quickly and deftly cast a spell which revealed Sylvanas' memories. Malygos was towering over Sylvanas in fury, and Cynthyaz knew she had to work quickly in order to get the entire picture.

Sylvanas _had_ indeed made another attempt on the Scourge. However, her undead warriors were quickly destroyed, or taken over by the Lich King. No one beat the Lich King and his elite Lich guards at their own game, let alone pawns created by them.

Out of amusement, the Source elites had let Sylvanas and her remaining Banshees scurry away with their tails between their legs. However, they were pursued by an elite guard and a few necromancers, so they fled deep into Blue Dragonflight territory. As they had no bodies, it became necessary at times to Possess normal animals in order to evade and elude the Blue Dragons.

Leading an assorted force of ice trolls and wintry animals, Sylvanas managed to Possess a blue dragon as he was edging out from the caverns, and she used the knowledge from that dragon's memory to help the rest of her Banshees into the Blue Dragonflight's caverns secretly.

However, instead of refuge, Sylvanas had chosen to make a base in the home caverns. A few followers had fallen prey to magical traps set by the blues, before Sylvanas broadcast knowledge from the blue dragon she Possessed to the entire force, and made them obey strict precautionary measures.

The Banshees were cunning and strong. Striking at the weakest time for the Blue Dragonflight with information gleaned from the captured dragons (more had been Possessed as they finalized the invasion plans), the Banshees managed to Possess the few sentries and went on to Possess the sleeping Blue Dragonflight. The Blue Dragonflight was resting, and the remaining Banshees had quickly Possessed healthy, virile, and sleeping dragons. The younglings had been slaughtered.

However, Sylvanas knew that in a war of attrition the blues would win the Banshee-possessed forces, and she sought to Possess Malygos, by having her forces guard her as she rushed into Malygos's chambers. She realized her folly too late – Malygos was far too powerful a magical creature to possess – and when Malygos was made aware of events he had cast out all of Sylvanas' forces from his dragons' bodies with his raw power, and froze them.

Now Sylvanas begged for her life, and by the looks of things she wouldn't get it.

"Lord Malygos!" Cynthyaz interjected; a wily idea had sprouted in her shrewd mind.

"What is it? Why have you spies – oh, I see. Korialstrasz." Malygos was so powerful that Cynthyaz didn't even realize he had read her mind.

"Yes, excellent idea. A fine way to repay them, a fine way for them to repay us. Very well, Sylvanas Windrunner, you may live. But you shall now serve the Blue Dragonflight. I shall release your brethren. And take heed – should you dare attempt to betray us, know what your fate is to be."

Cynthyaz winced at those words; Malygos was adept at projecting images into others' minds. She saw Sylvanas shriek – it was extremely loud and piercing – and she could only imagine what horrors Malygos had grimly forced Sylvanas to bear mentally.

"I – will - serve – the – new – master…What would you have us do?" Sylvanas spoke in a ghoulish, frighteningly feminine voice, a voice inflected with millennia of torture.

Malygos glanced appraisingly at Cynthyaz, then nodded. "Yes. You shall Possess Kirin Tor wizards and attempt to infiltrate them. Also, Possess orc shamans and troll witch doctors. Red dragons, as well. You shall take over the role of covert operations, for our war preparations."

Sylvanas glared with hate-filled eyes. "We too have a vendetta…"

"It shall be taken care of," Malygos assured Sylvanas. "Not that we owe your kind anything but slow, torturous death for the Blue Dragonflight's losses sustained today, but we too have issues with the necromancers. Their dark magic wielding is exploitation and recklessness at its height!"

"We will call for a temporary alliance with the Nerubian race on this island, to aid us in defeating the Scourge for once and for all." Malygos' voice was majestic, and extremely persuasive. He stood alone in the room with frozen carcasses of varied races. Cynthyaz could see, in the gigantic chamber, a frozen pair of elves, a goblin, Humans, and even a Naga. All those who trespassed into his lair did not leave without his permission.

Malygos turned his head to face Cynthyaz and Dyralos. "As for the two of you, well done. Excellent escape. I would not have expected Korialstrasz to have penetrated my spell, even with its weakening and your mental communication. He must be more sensitive to magic and devious than I had previously thought."

"You are therefore promoted." Cynthyaz's heart started pounding hard. After all, she was the one who managed to help Dyralos elude Korialstrasz.

"Dyralos, you shall now take over the late Myrascraz as a Lieutenant." Malygos raised a talon to gesture regretfully at a carcass near the entrance of his chamber; the dragon had appeared to have ripped his own wings to shreds before knocking off a stalactite which pierced his eye and granted him an excruciating end. "Sylvanas shall also be a lieutenant, commander of her own wing." He looked in Cynthyaz's direction. "Ah, Cynthyaz, I sense you have some unease regarding my decision. Let me continue. Cynthyaz, you will have to be my consort. It seems we are underpowered, and the Red Dragonflight number easily five times our own, despite them having been ravaged by involvement in the Second War, in the thrall of the Horde."

Cynthyaz was dumbfounded. She had never expected this! "My Lord, I live to serve!" Her exuberance now expanded enormously.

Malygos's eyes twinkled in amusement, to which Cynthyaz grinned widely in jubilation. Malygos continued, "If our bid for alliance with the Nerubians succeeds, we will have more cards to play."

"However, it is still not enough. I will need more consorts. We have a charge, and we must prevent magic-users from starting a Third War with the Burning Legion. Our enemies range from high elves, to humans, to orcs and trolls, to the undead, to the draenei. The Night-Elves can be called upon to ally with us, for their form of magic is taken from Nature, and they are clearly not reckless magic using fools. The high elves – now blood elves, I presume – are the true descendents of those idiots who summoned the Legion the first time, along with the Naga sea witches, Azshara the queen and her servant Vashj."

Cynthyaz was awed. She wasn't usually one for history lessons, but this was a personal experience of her Lord, now her _mate_. She couldn't help being exceptionally pleased. She could also sense the smugness radiating from every scale of Dyralos's. They gave each other a mental hi-five.

"We have limited manpower, and therefore must plan strategically. The high elves – fools, they are our primary enemy – believe that they will not be attacked. They have not decided to prepare _at all_. While it might be good to attack them at this stage, it will be folly as they will scatter quickly and rebuild, joining Dalaran who are preparing and have the potential to fend us off."

"We have no quarrel with the Red Dragonflight, only those red dragons defending Dalaran, and we cannot attack their home caverns, or there _will_ be a reprisal. I merely want Sylvanas's forces to scout and inform us of new twists."

"Provoking the Scourge at this stage is also idiocy. We should reduce our enemies quickly, and right now if we provoke the Scourge they will retaliate – hard."

"The Naga lie beneath the surface of the seas. I can pinpoint their location, but we should not allow the Humans too much time to convince the others to join them. More importantly, we should not allow the Red Dragonflight to garner more allies, for I fear that Alexstrasza will somehow convince Ysera to take her side in this war. Besides, we do not have time to spare training dragons in underwater combat."

"The best course of action, therefore, is to quickly rid ourselves of the orcs. We will send missives to the night elves, and Ysera, whom they revere. If the Green Dragonflight will ally with us, we may have sufficient power to begin the assault on the Alliance's bases. For the Alliance will surely back up Dalaran."

"If we are seen to oppose the orcs and propose an alliance to the night elves, they may gladly join us, for they have long memories and long lives. They will not forget Cenarius easily. I think Cenarius will be a good bargaining chip with Ysera, as well."

"From Kalimdor, after razing Durotar to ashes, we may proceed to invade eastward. This will not run the risk of provoking the high elven lords, and indeed may work well in our favour."

"Any objections?"

Cynthyaz strode forward in her new title, and spoke cajolingly, "My Lord, might it not be prudent for the Banshees to attempt to Possess some of the red dragons guarding Dalaran? After all, you did say that they now are our enemies. Of course, we should first control the leadership, my Lord. The Banshees can be better placed in Dalaran than used to control orcs who we're going to invade soon, I think."

Malygos considered for a while, then spoke.

"Very well. Lieutenant Dyralos, prepare the messengers and missives to the Nerubian Lords of Azjol-Nerub and Night-Elven leaders, namely the Arch-druid of the Cenarius Circle and High Priestess of the Sisters of Elune."

"We shall begin our invasion of Kalimdor's orcs at once. It will be impossible to destroy the shamans without destroying the orcs as well, for their leader is a shaman himself. We shall also lay waste to the Human stronghold of Theramore, for Jaina Proudmoore, their leader, is a powerful Human wizard, and suspected to be a member of the Kirin Tor's High Council. Her advisor, Magna Aegwynn has committed even darker crimes, transgressing far into forbidden magic during her entire life which spans a millennium and more, and must not be spared for her rogue use of magic."


	4. Kalimdor

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 4: Kalimdor**

The night elven sentry leader stood straight, her poise one of extreme confidence. With flowing hair and sensual features, she stood out from her other ageless brethren. There was an aura of confidence, command and power about her. The other members of the sentry, the other Sentinels, were ill at ease, for their leader appeared to be extremely interested… in an ancient oak tree.

The leader smiled. "Well, reveal yourself. There is no need to hide; I can sense you perfectly."

There seemed to be a somewhat shocked and irritated rumble emanating from the tree. Suddenly, the oak split apart and the tree ceased to be. In its place was a rather large and intimidating blue dragon. Its huge wings spanned the height of a tree, and the scales seemed to shine and sparkle in the moonlight with a silvery hue. Intelligent eyes darted back and forth, and those with ability could sense the magic humming back and forth. It was a beautiful being. Until it opened its maw wide in a toothy grin, revealing ever-so-sharp incisors which threatened to rip the leader apart.

The night elf Sentinels immediately sprung forth, weapons drawn, to the defence of their leader. However, the leader permitted herself a small smile, and motioned for them to stand down.

"Impressive. You show no shock at seeing my true form," Dyralos chuckled.

"Why are you here?" A feminine voice came from the small mouth of the night elven Sentinel leader, ringing with deadly solemnity. She glanced up, staring straight into the eyes of the blue. "You know this is night elven territory. Your kind has no place here."

"Easy on me, lady! I am a messenger from Lord Malygos, and I wish to see the Arch-druid Stormrage and High Priestess Whisperwind."

"The Arch-druid is walking the Emerald Dream. There are four green dragon entities who are threatening to turn it into a warped version, called by some the Emerald Nightmare, and the Arch-druid is working with the Mistress of the Dream to solve the problem."

If possible at all, the blue dragon's smile dropped into a slight frown. "That might be tricky. Then I'll need to see the High Priestess. Take me to her, pronto."

A few Sentinels appeared to have difficulty keeping straight faces, though mostly due to anger and amusement apparently.

"Is that how blue dragons communicate nowadays? You are asking me a favour, and when you ask a favour you do not make demands. It is not my responsibility to help you; I have my duties of patrolling the glades in this area."

"Don't try to be funny with me." Dyralos, young and quick tempered, snarled.

"_Funny_? Be assured, I am not in the least bit attempting to make this situation amusing. You came to speak with our leaders, correct? Then you are requesting an audience in night elven territory. And you shall follow our forms of etiquette."

"Follow lowly mortal rules? Ridiculous!" Dyralos snarled the last, his contempt of mortal races clear.

He cast a spell to hold the leader bound in the air, and the rest of the patrol was hurled against the trees.

"_This_ is how mortals with inferior rules are going to be treated. Don't think you get away with ordering _ancients_ around."

The leader now all but glared. "That is most certainly not the way to ask a favour. The High Priestess will not grant an audience with you. And, for the record, we night elves are _ancients_ in our own right. Some of us have lived for ten thousand years. I doubt you're older than two centuries, given your disposition."

"Who are you to dictate what that High Priestess will do? She'll see me, whether she wants to or not! And who're you to say how old I am? You night elves blemish the honour of _true_ ancients!"

"For your insolence, she will not. Now, release my patrol." The night elven leader was serious and confident, not in the least bit intimidated by the rather large snarling blue dragon in front of her.

Dyralos suddenly grinned, a sharp contrast to his previously furious features. "Silly elf. You really think you can tell _me_ what to do?"

A few Sentinels cried out in pain – they were sent crashing against trees.

"Stop this at once! This is your last chance." The Sentinels' leader had fury inflected in her voice, embodied in her person, burning in her eyes.

"Who're you to give me chances, you big mouth? Now take me to your High Priestess." Dyralos snorted, hoping that this would teach a lesson to those haughty elves, ever so eager to belittle an ancient.

The leader's eyes narrowed. "Mother Moon!" Her entire form glowed for an instant, with wan light. Her skin was ashen, her eyebrows pallid, but not from any weakness. The Moon Goddess was speaking through her avatar.

Pale moonlight flowed over all of the followers, healing their wounds instantly and negating the blue dragon's spell. "Pompous fool," the leader muttered, as the moonlight also released her from her bonds.

The logical conclusion was simple. Few night elves carried power as this one did, few could call Elune to their aid so easily or quickly, few had the skill and power to repel the spells of a physically and magically mature blue drake. And only one would actually dare to do it on her own authority.

However, it seemed that Dyralos had lost all his good judgement. A red mist washed over his eyes, his face contorted in fury, and he snarled.

"You _dare_."

Dyralos opened his maw, preparing to blast an ice-breath at the patrol, when the moonlight inexplicably caused burns to his snout. The new wounds seared, and, in agony, Dyralos hurriedly cast a spell which caused a jagged bolt to fall on the heavens, intending for the magic-wielding leader to be pulverized. He could plant false memories in the sentry and fake a story later to the High Priestess, anyway.

Something did fall from the heavens. However, instead of a powerful earth-cleaving lightning bolt, it was a full-sized star which crashed straight on Dyralos's right wing, rendering him unable to fly. The scales of his wings flared for a moment, reflecting beautiful light, before blackening. Some scales were crushed, and a bone snapped. He hissed in fury. The leader walked up to him and removed her hood, revealing sensual facial features.

"I am High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Your actions have severely reduced my opinion of the Blue Dragonflight. Now convey your message, and be gone from our lands."

Dyralos's eyes narrowed, but he knew he was no match for the authority of the leader of the night elves, who, though were mortal, had the backing of the Green Dragonflight. And she clearly had power herself, for she was the head of the sect worshipping the powerful goddess, Elune, and had just commanded some of Elune's powers. Dyralos choked down his pride and, with as much respect as he would deign to bestow on a mortal being, declared "Lord Malygos invites you to ally with us, against the orcs who are flagrant and bloated with their magic. They cannot be allowed to continue wielding magics."

At this, Tyrande laughed out loud. Harshly. Contemptuously. "Flagrant and bloated with magic, indeed! Right now I see one such being in front of me."

Dyralos gritted his many gleaming teeth against the insult, not wanting to complicate matters further. "Do you accept, High Priestess?"

"Obviously not. Don't be ridiculous. I had thought Malygos had regained his sanity. Apparently it is not so. Ally with _you_ against our allies, the orcs, who helped rid Kalimdor of demonic influence? Over _flagrant magic usage_? Ridiculous!" Tyrande was clearly not in the best of moods, and her decision was conveyed with a snort of derision.

Dyralos's eyes narrowed to slits. "Your impertinence does you no good. If you will not ally with us, there is every chance that Malygos will declare war on your race, as well. Then you'll come grovelling for the very _survival_ of your species!"

Tyrande laughed again. "That will never happen. For we have allies, fool. Allies in the orcs and the Alliance. Allies in the Green Dragonflight. If you blue dragons are foolish enough to attack, by all means, but you'll bear the consequences."

"Damn you! Why you…" Dyralos got no further, as Tyrande raised a gloved hand.

"Intruder, I expel you from my lands forever for your unjustly actions this day. Henceforth you shall not be allowed to re-enter night elven territory in Kalimdor. That's a lightened sentence for the crimes perpetrated by you today."

Moonlight glimmered and shone, sparkles dancing excitedly about Tyrande's gloved hand. A particularly bright beam concentrated on Dyralos from Tyrande's palm. A sudden gust of wind howled and blew Dyralos away casually.

"Darn you, witch!" Dyralos tried casting a spell to negate the one sending him away, but it failed. With this, Dyralos's fury grew even greater. With all his concentration, he summoned up an opposing wind to push him back. The only result, however, was incredible pain as the pressure quickly proved too great even for his massively powerful draconic body to bear. Dyralos had no choice but to succumb to the High Priestess's spell. When the wind finally stopped, he tried flying back to the forest, but he encountered an invisible barrier.

Dyralos was angry. Again. All his work, sneaking into the night elven realm, gone. Just like that. And he couldn't ever enter that realm again. He had failed his Lord Malygos in his ambassadorship duties, over that little wretch of a night elven leader.

On top of that, the humiliation at having been beaten by that same priestess enraged him. He hadn't even inflicted damage on the Priestess! Dyralos growled out some ancient words – since that little idiot wanted to play with stars, stars would be what she got. Another star fell from the sky, heading straight for the forests beneath the highest peak in the night elven realm, the glades of Cenarius. On some subconscious level, he knew that this little revenge was going too far, but he didn't care. All he now cared about was that he was going to make that impudent Priestess _pay_.

The star unerringly fell towards the forests, before suddenly swerving in mid-air and smacking a dumbfounded Dyralos on his body in midair. Hard. Dyralos found he couldn't maintain his altitude due to a sudden lack of breath, and he convulsed in midair. And crashed painfully onto the ground.

"I suppose it is no great loss, anyway. The Green Dragonflight and the night elves' magical beings appear to be tied up in internal problems. This is their loss; if they're not with us, they're_ against_ us."

Dyralos muttered an incantation, and teleported away.

* * *

Meanwhile, a grand cavern was being created from the existing caves on a misty peak. The place reeked of recent demonic activity, but the blue dragons had been able to remedy that quickly after claiming it for their own.

Safeguards had been weaved efficiently and quickly into the walls of the cavern. All the blues present could sense the presence of Malygos's power. He was not physically there to oversee the blues, for Cynthyaz was now pregnant and he had to stay and care for both Cynthyaz and the home caverns, in case of a sudden Scourge invasion.

Although the Nerubians had agreed to ally with the Blue Dragonflight, they were a scattered race, a former shadow of the once proud and powerful race which had overrun most of Northrend, having a mighty base in Azjol-Nerub. Many Nerubians now also served the Lich King in undeath.

As part of the recent alliance, the Nerubian spider lords shifted to take up residence in the Blue Dragonflight's home caverns. Slowly but surely, a subterranean empire – the Nerubian wing – was being carved out from new tunnels, expanding the Blue Dragonflight's realm.

In the midst of frenzied activity, a lone Blue stalked forward. Dents and black marks marred the perfection of the slashing silver-blue scales on his wing and body, and the drake was visibly weakened.

Some blue dragons recognized this lone dragon, and cried out, "Lieutenant Dyralos!" The title immediately got more dragons crowding around him, for the Lieutenant was of highest rank and ordered to lead the invasion of Kalimdor.

Dyralos looked around, and a small sneer built on his face. "New orders! Those uppity night elves have rejected our proposal, and attacked our ambassador! Their brazen abuse of magic must not go unpunished! We will mobilize first against the night elves, strike them while they are weak and unprepared!"

A few dragons looked mystified by this order, but otherwise they were mostly compliant.


	5. Dreams

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 5: Dreams**

Differing, flickering hues of emerald encompassed the scenery as far as the eye could see. The past and the present could be observed, and the world tended to, within this ethereal realm. So the duty of the druids of the Cenarion Circle had been for ages, so it would continue.

The verdant dominion of Ysera appeared as it should: tranquil and soothing. But beyond the beauty of the natural landscape unmarred by destructive and primarily human influences was a dark place, known as the _Nightmare_. Malfurion watched in distaste as the Nightmare consumed more of the sleeping denizens of the Emerald Dream. He was quite powerless to stop the growth of the Nightmare, and had consulted with Ysera multiple times to no avail. From what Romulus and Cenarius had told him, the Nightmare was embodied in four great Greens who had once been unswervingly loyal to Ysera – Lethon, a malevolent dragon with amazing raw power and possessing the ability to draw shades from enemies that imbues its master with healing energies; Emeriss, a gruesome and cunning female dragon who plotted and left mushrooms in the corpses of enemies; Ysondre, a more direct female frequently casting lightning waves and summoning fiendish druids, as well as casting sleep and sowing nightmares; and Taerar, a terrible being who had possibly lost his sanity and had the ability to split into multiple entities.

Ysera had refused to confront her former loyalists head-on, instead stubbornly staying in the Eye of Ysera, residing in the golden domes with her flight, only occasionally taking indirect action or using magic powers (insignificant in amount to an aspect such as Ysera) to curtail the growth of the Nightmare. While Ysera had justified it by claiming that direct action would only antagonize the Four Dragons – known also as the _Dragons of Nightmare_ by the druids and other residents in the Dream – and might potentially destabilize the entire dream, Romulus had noted that Ysera likely didn't want to confront her four former lieutenants and likely still harboured hopes of saving them from the fiendish grips of the Nightmare.

Malfurion sighed as he continued his vigil on the green cliff. A tendril of darkness, without warning, reached out and snared an unsuspecting Faerie Dragon which shrieked as it tried to Phase-Shift. Whispering to the wind, Malfurion gripped the tendril via the wind and sliced it with deft strokes. A veteran in battling the Nightmare's ghoulish tactics, Malfurion summoned a greater gust to push back what he knew would be more tendrils of darkness as the Faerie Dragon sped off away from the Nightmare. Instead of being pushed back, however, the reinforcements strained and snared the Dragon once again. Malfurion frowned: the Nightmare had grown in power. He prepared to cleave the tendrils apart with lightning bolts, except that he felt a surge of power behind him which caused stones to whip about the instruments of darkness and slice them up. Malfurion turned to look at the Dragon's benefactor, and was greeted with a stern expression.

"Romulus! How far have you grown your glades?"

"Malfurion Stormrage." The ancient face looked creased with worry. "I bring unpleasant news. High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind has recently been attacked by a member of the Blue Dragonflight, who was seeking alliance against the orcs. While I distrust the orcs, given what they did to my father, I am more wary of the resurgent Blue Dragonflight. Malygos, it appears, has recovered the greater part of his sanity only to have lost it once more, declaring mortal races to have "misused" the ways of magic and wreaking destruction upon Azeroth. He has called upon all demigods to pronounce judgment, claiming that it was misuse of magic which brought upon Azeroth the Burning Legion. While I do not agree with his views, he has invoked the ancient compact and we demigods cannot oppose him directly..."

It took a while for the implications of the message to sink in, druids being used to a slower pace of life than most of their other mortal counterparts.

"Tyrande was attacked!? How is she?"

"It would take far more than an upstart blue dragon to seriously harm the High Priestess of Elune. As it was, the blue was repelled with only a bruised pride and possibly some crushed scales. He tried to summon a star upon my glades, and I spun it right back at him."

Malfurion grinned at that. Blues that tried attacking the Keeper of the Grove with nature... now, that was a sight to behold. He sobered quickly, however, as he absorbed the rest of Romulus's message.

"Malygos has declared war on magic-wielding mortal races?"

"Yes, that _is_ what I said. To be specific, he targets orcish shamans, the Human wizards and their stronghold at Dalaran, which is at present being defended by the Red Dragonflight, as well as the high elves at their newly rebuilt Quel-Thalas and the Sunwell. From what transpired between High Priestess Whisperwind and the Blue, it appears Malygos intends to strike at the orcs first...... I must go. Do all which is in your power to prevent the Nightmare from growing. Farewell, Malfurion Stormrage."

As Malfurion opened his mouth to protest, Romulus faded out of existence. Malfurion sighed in annoyance. He didn't know how to stop the spread of the Nightmare, which kept changing its location, nor did he know how to combat it effectively. All he could do was to watch the Nightmare and try to preserve the unsuspecting wildlife from the Nightmare's fiendish clutches...

* * *

Dyralos crowed in anticipation. He had encountered the wretched barrier around Kalimdor, but that had been expected. With five blue dragons surrounding him, he directed his little task force with a matrix which shimmered as they poured their energies into the centre of the pentacle, which was the focal point of the matrix – Dyralos himself. Dyralos snarled, and loosed the magic in a spell which was designed to penetrate magical barriers and wreak havoc – taught to him by Lord Malygos himself. Never mind that the Lord had said that that spell was intended for use only on Dalaran, so potent was its magic and so bent was Malygos on ensuring Dalaran's utter destruction.

A trio of beams lanced from Dyralos's mouth, which circled around each other as they sped towards the silly forests the night elves kept growing. They hit _something_ – it appeared to be a silver dome – but passed through easily, apparently burning holes in the dome which caused ripples of power to spread. The dome quickly re-formed, but that had been part of Dyralos's strategy. The destructive potential would be confined and exemplified by their very own shield, and the smug Priestess would pay. Dearly.

Dragons had exceptionally good eyesight, and Dyralos was just waiting for the fireworks to start when the area where the beams had been targeted shimmered, and a strange being materialized. It appeared to be a centaur, except that it had a wild mane and antlers that nested birds. The creature raised a hand; the woods sprang to life and shimmered green before welding together in front of the beams. The beams lanced towards the makeshift wooden shield and bounced off, cartwheeling madly before striking random parts of the forest. Instead of causing forest fires, however, it spread a healthy bluish glow across the forests. It appeared to be an early winter.

Dyralos smirked. His five blue compatriots crowed. The scene was phenomenal. Although the woods kept rising out of nowhere to blockade the spread, they merely froze before the whitish-blue wave of frost.

_Perhaps they should remain themselves _Cold-limdor, Dyralos thought to himself vengefully. The blues caught his thoughts and laughed with him. _Remember, this is a secret mission, covert ops, so don't tell anyone else_. The blues acquiesced gleefully, and with a final withering look toward Kalimdor, Dyralos muttered the teleportation incantation.

* * *

The glades around Darnassus bespoke tranquillity, but a fierce battle raged within the walls of the Temple of the Moon. Led by Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, representatives from the Cenarion Enclave had come to confront the head of night elven government, the High Priestess of the Sisters of Elune.

"You should have negotiated with him, _High Priestess_. With as undiplomatic a leader as you, our people are sure to be led to ruin. You might have antagonized the Blue Dragonflight, _Mistress Whisperwind_, and with the Greens stuck in the Dream, how would you protect our lands? Not that smart and capable diplomats would have risked antagonizing dragonflights over petty displays of pride."

The sneering voice of Fandral Staghelm grated on the nerves of the Sisters, but none spoke up.

"Archdruid, I did as my conscience dictated. The orcs have been our allies; the Blue Dragonflight has only recently resurged as a rising force and is throwing its weight about recklessly, from the look of things. They threatened to destroy Dalaran! So I –"

"So you decided to act on your 'conscience', as you call it, disregarding that your primary duty is to the night elven race and _not_ to ridiculous humans stuck in their pathetic excuse for a city, filled with the devils of machinery. They have been polluting our forests and you would stick up for them against ancient guardians of the world –"

Fandral's contemptuous tirade was broken by an angry outburst from Moon Priestess Shandris, who couldn't restrain herself anymore.

"What's _Deathwing_ to you then, eh? Neltharion, the Earth-Warder – oh, I forget, Staghelm, you're far too immature to have seen it for yourself! The great black was once the "ancient guardian" of the earth that you speak of, and according to _your_ policy perhaps we should go look for the Black Dragonflight to ally ourselves with them! Would you like to be our representative in that area?" Sarcasm dripped from every word as Shandris, clearly embarrassed by her outburst yet not quite ready to allow even an Archdruid to continue insulting her benefactor, stood her ground.

"Shandris!" Tyrande's voice cut through. "Please take a seat."

"Yes, High Priestess." Shandris obeyed with obeisance, genuflecting to her benefactor and mentor, even as her eyes shot daggers at Staghelm.

Staghelm, clearly having been shamed tremendously by Shandris's insinuation that he lacked experience and also aware that he been completely humiliated in the verbal spar, turned a deep puce, and would have retorted if not for the sudden presence that everyone felt.

"Romulus!" Tyrande whispered in anticipation.

"Romulus. As you can see, we're in the middle of a meeting." Fandral snarled in semi-annoyance as he turned towards the gathering of twigs and leaves which solidified into the stout Keeper, before being shocked into wordlessness.

The normally immaculate Keeper (save wildlife on his person), and one of the most powerful in the druidic arts within Kalimdor, had half a hoof frozen and looked severely weakened. Tyrande hurried over to his side and whispered healing chants – although it was merely an avatar of Romulus, her powers could reach the Keeper himself – as the rest of the Priestesses joined her. But Romulus held out a hand, and spoke.

"I will recover – in due – time. But, time is short – the forest was attacked by Blues – and I barely kept the spell at bay. Need druids and priestesses to combat the –". With a sigh, he collapsed and the presence weakened as his avatar scattered into the twigs and leaves once again.

"Mother Moon! Let us hurry over –" Tyrande was stopped midsentence by a smug Fandral.

"This proves my point exactly, _High Priestess_ Whisperwind. Had you not so _immaturely_ confronted that Blue, we surely would not have to deal with this. Romulus and the forests are your problems now; I, at least, _will be_ a responsible leader and act in the best interests of the night elves and form an alliance with the Blue Dragonflight. I am making it my prerogative to decide our foreign policy. If you wish to oppose me and begin a civil war, so be it. I warn you" – and here his eyes flickered to Shandris in a deadly expression – "I will not hold back on account that we both represent the night elves, nor on account that you are my _Shan'do_'s spouse. Be warned. If you truly wish to preserve the unity of our race, play the good Sentinel who protects our lands from foreign incursions of _enemy_ _mortal _races."

"I thought the Cenarion Circle was above petty wars and futile disputes; apparently I was wrong. Answer me, Archdruid!"

"_You_ never did understand our ways..." came the replying derisive snort as Fandral raised his hand.

With a final contemptuous look, Fandral closed his eyes, and winds enveloped him and his followers as they disappeared, proof of the extent of the druidic powers of the Archdruid.

The Priestesses of Elune were horrified, and all but one looked at the High Priestess for guidance. Shandris stared guiltily and sullenly at her toes. Tyrande's mind whirled madly at the implications of what had just transpired, but with the mask of calmness she wore she merely instructed her priestesses, "come along. We have work to do."

* * *

In a deep cavern far, far away, goblins scurried about madly. Lava spurts had incinerated more than one of those little wiry creatures, and they all feared for their lives. However, the oppressive feeling in the intricate network of tunnels wasn't merely due to the heat.

A gargantuan black laughed – laughter that bespoke slight insanity. His roars reverberating throughout his abode, and the goblins' frantic movement grew even more frenzied, with most of them edging away from the source…

* * *

_Sorry that it took me 1 year to update and all. I have been making major grammatical overhauls so apologies too if there was major spam to anyone's inbox :S_

_Like I said before I redid this document, in the next chapter, I've written one character according to the archetype of a very, very good real-life friend of mine :) Enjoy Chapter 6; I personally loved the first part :D_


	6. Mortals

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

****

Chapter 6: Mortals

"Work, work…" The peon grumbled to himself as he flung himself upon the hardy trees that refused to yield to his axe. Unsurprisingly, he was bounced backwards with nothing to show for it aside from even more bruises, to add to his collection. His new prizes added to the growing gallery of discolourations upon his green skin, which commonly came from three primary sources: his superiors, his fellow peons and his brave attempts at accelerating his working pace (we know it as sheer stupidity).

Dhuk nearly got executed, if not for his fellow peon, who had more sense than him and was able to stop his axe in time. Dhak, his twin brother, gave him an annoyed grunt. Dhuk knew exactly what Dhak must be thinking: _there you go again, doing all sorts of silly things. You should just concentrate on the work at hand._ It was what Dhak had said to him over ten times that day despite Dhuk's protests of "_Me not that kind of orc!"_ and "_Me busy, leave me alone!"_. But even a peon such as Dhuk eventually got the hang of the long words that Dhak had used. But Dhak didn't say that now; instead, he gave a look of surprise and turned around abruptly from the tree.

Dhuk sneered. "There go again, doing all sorts things. You just concentrate at hand." A bubble of pride rose within Dhuk: it was rare that Dhuk had the chance to really admonish his twin brother.

Dhak shook his head and pointed to the sky. Dhuk grunted. "Won't fall that again." But instead of grinning and praising Dhuk for seeing through his trick this time, Dhak mutely stared upwards. Dhuk took a slight peep and then grunted, again, annoyed with Dhak.

"Birds. Even Dhuk know. Birds…"

"_Wyverns_, not birds. And they're carrying trolls... Those aren't the normal troll headhunters… they're the witch doctors!"

"Someone call for the doctor?" Dhuk grinned gleefully, finally having been able to put the phrase he'd saved into use. He'd learnt that from one of those witch doctors. But his brother just looked at the "wyvern" birds, apparently thinking again…

* * *

In the simple if spacious wooden hut, Thrall stared intently at a little crystal. His glowed red. He knew that, elsewhere, blue and green crystals would be glowing, too.

_Jaina. High Priestess Whisperwind._ He acknowledged his compatriots formally before beginning the thought-conversation. _How do your peoples fare?_

_Very well, thank you._ Jaina sounded slightly puzzled, and Thrall inferred that it was not her that had called this conversation. How intriguing. The aloof, sullen Night Elven Priestess had finally opened her mouth first, of her own accord. He prayed it was not another lecture on how young and immature a mortal he was.

_Thrall? What's up?_ Jaina didn't understand, not yet.

I_ have called this meeting. It appears that the magic stones you prepared for us at the conclusion of the Battle for Mount Hyjal finally come into use_. High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind's cool, flowing voice seemed to speak directly in Thrall's head.

_High Priestess Whisperwind! You sent the summons?_ Jaina was startled, much like Thrall had been, which wasn't surprising given how Whisperwind had carelessly (and rather rudely) dismissed Jaina's gift – and pledge of alliance – as utterly useless and would have cast it into the lake atop Hyjal if not for the Archdruid's intervention. As in the good Archdruid, Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage, the leader of the entire Cenarion circle and the spouse of the High Priestess, who was now sleeping deeply in the Emerald Dream, so Thrall had heard. In her words, "the fate of mortals was but a second in the lives of immortals, and the fate of immortals insignificant to the mortals whose existence would snuff out before the immortal had the time to realize it". Which was rather ironic, given that immortals had the most time of all.

_I did, young one. I have initiated contact to warn both of you. We suspect the Blue Dragonflight intends to invade the orc lands, then proceed to wipe out Theramore. They are targeting magic-users. They have already struck at the heart of Kalimdor, but their magical assault was repelled by one of our own who suffered grievous injuries. My priestesses are tending to him now as we speak._ Tyrande's sorrow cut through her speech, and Thrall could see in his mind's eye the living, breathing, moving forests frozen to a standstill and their guardian collapsed from fatigue in the middle of the newly created icy kingdom.

_That is the worst news, but there is more. Our night elven leadership is literally of two minds. The druids of the Cenarion Circle, led by Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, are advocating alliance with the Blue Dragonflight, and I am unable to change their mind. The Sentinel forces and Sisters of Elune stand by me, and the Druids of Moonglade and Romulus, a Keeper of the Grove, also oppose Staghelm. We have spoken to Archdruid Ramuul Runetotem; the Tauren druids and druids of other races will not support Staghelm's policy but nor do they intend to openly oppose him. We have yet to decide on a suitable course of action; however, we are of one mind about two points: the defence of our territory, from the Blue Dragonflight or otherwise, is imperative, and we do not intend to sit idly by as the Blues carry out their magic-exterminating crusade_. Tyrande concluded, and the voice fell silent in Thrall's mind.

_It is reassuring indeed that the night elves do not all intend to ally with the Blues, though this change in policy for the Cenarion Circle is startling. The citizens of Theramore will not evacuate. We have carved out our home here and have co-existed with the other races on Kalimdor rather well, including the goblins at the Ratchet and the orcs at Durotar. I do not intend to reverse this policy. However, I will consult with the High Council of the Kirin Tor at Dalaran and see if we can obtain assistance to repel any attacks from the Blue Dragonflight._ Jaina's roughed, exhausted voice sounded firm and in command, in contrast to Tyrande's melodious tone which belied her anxious undercurrents.

_While it is unnerving, we must consider also that the Blues have approached races apart from the night elves. The last I heard, they had holed up in Northrend. While I seriously doubt that the Blue Dragonflight would condone Necromancy any more than high elven magic, it is possible that the Blues have incorporated various factions of the Scourge. And, of course, there are evils aside from the Scourge that still roam Northrend..._ Thrall's grim voice broke into the conversation.

_You can't mean... Azjol-Nerub? They _would _have reason to band together... perhaps if we're lucky, they'll take out the Scourge for us, and that cursed Ner'Zhul along with it!_ Jaina sounded so hopeful that Thrall had to force himself to disagree, but Tyrande spared him the necessity of disappointing Jaina.

_It's folly to even think that way. The Blues wouldn't confront an enemy they couldn't defeat. Our only hope lies in unity; if the targets band together and form a third power apart from the Blue Dragonflight and the Scourge, it might be possible that the Blues will abandon their venture to prepare... and dragons live a long time. Your Alliance and Horde would not be bothered for many, many decades..._

_We'll have to concentrate on that for now, then_. Jaina's voice had lost all idealism. _I'll get in touch immediately with Dalaran. I'll be ready to teleport at any time to Durotar. _There was a strange edge in Jaina's voice... as if she expected something.

_Why would the Blues attack me? I only ask the elements for aid; all my strength comes from nature._

_Beware, orc; although you rely on shamanistic magics and not demonic magics, the orcs under you once used the very source of power that slew Cenarius and brought havoc upon the land. The Blues – Malygos especially – have a long memory. It was in the first coming of the Legion that Malygos lost his entire flight, and he still blames it on the mortal races that summoned the Burning Legion. The human's right; it's best to be prepared. I must go; remember, the Blues are creatures of magic. No amount of swords can pierce their armour without magical support. The best bet lies in cadres of experienced mages that have support from lesser mages. Sending in inexperienced mages or non-magic users would be, at best, suicidal. I bid you good luck in your venture, and will contact you when my coalition in the government comes to a decision. For now, it is best to assume you will not have night elven aid at all... I bid you good luck_.

With that, the green presence withdrew from their minds. Thrall, annoyed at he was with Tyrande's attitude, was somewhat grateful that she had, at least, opposed the Archdruid, presumably for the sakes of Durotar and Theramore and their alliance then during the Battle of Mount Hyjal. _Night elven aid might get in the way instead, anyway_. Jaina's mused to herself; she was rather fond of thinking about conundrums.

_Better some aid than no aid. Better no aid than support of the invasion._ Thrall stated practically. It was the orcish way of seeing things, though some of the older orcs would disagree with him and state that it would have been better to have more enemies to cut up. Most of the poor fools of that era now lay dead, consumed by their bloodlust which threw them relentlessly at their enemies and even their allies, sometimes. The time for decision-making was here.

_The orcs will support Theramore in case of invasion_. Thrall knew that was what Jaina had been looking for – assurance and a pledge from Durotar – and Jaina's feelings of relief and satisfaction over their shared mental bond only served to confirm his guess.

_Thank you. I'll proceed, then_. With a cool breeze, the blue presence also vanished from Thrall's mind, and Thrall suddenly found himself back in his makeshift command centre.

"Warchief! The troll witch doctors want to see you!" A raider yelled as he rushed into Thrall's large wooden hut.

"Send them in. I think I know what they're after."

"You're cleared! Go on in!" The raider shouted as he stalked out.

A procession of aged trolls trooped into Thrall's hut and stood reverently in two lines, making way for an ancient and hoary troll with silver-white hair walk in. Despite his seemingly old age, it was apparent that he had tremendous strength.

"King Rastakhan! Welcome to Orgrimmar. Good to see you again, Witch Doctor Vol'jin. To what do I owe this honour?" Thrall nodded in turn to the King and to the resident witch doctor of Orgrimmar.

The King spoke in a strong voice. "We have foreseen the destruction of Orgrimmar as an icy wasteland. We have also foreseen that our arrival will not halt this destruction, though it will delay it. We cast the spell the third time, and we have seen that our sole chance of survival, along with yours, inextricably lies in the city of Theramore." The King broke the news directly, shrugging his powerful shoulders carelessly to belie the magnitude of his words. "The only way for our people to have peace, is for all magic users in our communities to relocate ourselves to Theramore. I hope you can ask your friend, Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage and ruler of Theramore, to grant us entry and temporary residence."

"This is serious news, indeed. I have just obtained warning from the High Priestess of the night elves that we might expect invasion, but I did not think that our homes would be wiped out... we have been warned that the Blues may have allies, and we can expect to be fighting druids of the Cenarion Circle, as well..."

"Druids! Then the situation is worse than we have foreseen. We must move to Theramore without delay; the Blues will be on their way and will not change their course unless we move off."

"Warchief! Let us fight! We're here to protect Durotar from all enemies, be they human or night elven!" The raider who had earlier told Thrall of the coming of the troll witch doctors now rushed into the hut once again; he had apparently been eavesdropping from outside. "Forgive my impudence, Warchief, but we cannot stain our pride and stand by as our Warchief runs from his own home!"

Thrall raised a hand. "You know not what it is you ask. For your pride, would you see every mother and babe freeze and die an icy death? It is not night elves or humans we are dealing with; it is the entire Blue Dragonflight. While normally I would enlist our raiders immediately for war with aerial foes, the Blue Dragons cannot be defeated by mere might. I will heed the counsel of King Rastakhan, and relocate all magic-wielding forces immediately! Send the message for all our shamans and spirit walkers to gather before my hut. We must go."

"Yes, Warchief." The fire had not died entirely in the eyes of the upstart, but he knew that the Warchief would brook no complaint in this matter, and set off.

"How shall we go to Theramore? I doubt the wyverns you brought will be sufficient."

"The matter will resolve itself; ask your friend for permission."

With a mystified glance at the trolls, Thrall reached for his red crystal on his desk – still warm from its recent usage – and called out to Jaina.

_Thrall! What is it?_

_We have changed our plans. I am gathering all our shamans. The troll witch doctors have come together. We seek permission to relocate ourselves to Theramore... the witch doctors divined that we would only have a chance at survival if we banded together there._

_It appears that High Priestess Whisperwind was right. Very well, I'm coming_. _Stay where you are!_

Before Thrall could grasp what Jaina just said, the air shimmered and Jaina popped into existence right before Thrall's eyes. The witch doctors had been expecting this, apparently; they sighed as they opened their closed eyes in unison.

"Thank you, Lady Proudmoore." It seemed like a set-up that had been rehearsed over and over again, so perfect was their unanimity.

Just then, the shamans walked into the hut. "Warchief, you called for us?"

"Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen... plus me and Thrall, sixteen! That's fine. Hold on tight!" Jaina chirped as Thrall felt a disconcerting sense of dislocation... and he suddenly found himself in a bustling human building.

"Welcome to Theramore!" At the sight of the disoriented expressions on many a shaman, who had after all only seconds ago been summoned hurriedly to Thrall's quarters, Jaina smiled and said, "don't worry, we've foreseen this, too. Witch doctors aren't the only ones with divining spells." With a wink, Jaina led them to their new quarters which had apparently already been long prepared.

* * *

"You're sure about this, Krasus?"

"Not sure. But if we do not have a powerful human champion to defend the Kirin Tor, then the chances of Dalaran's continued existence are very slim… Malygos is astute, powerful and persistent. I can think of no other possible way."

"It's very chancy… what about Cedric?"

"He must not be allowed to know. I will have to block his memories. I hope I will not have to go too far… we've all known what Cedric's like."

"It won't be too difficult blocking _his_ memories, given what you've been doing to our Council." Krasus was certain that his protégé smirked behind his mask.

"Cedric is… very ambitious. I might have to burrow in to remove any information and memories that might reveal our plan to him. If they're very deep memories that I cannot extricate without irreparably damaging his core, I will deign to merely obscure them. Blot them out."

"Oh, so it's _our_ plan now?"

"For the record, Rhonin, it hasn't been _my_ race from Day 1 that needed saving."

"Oh, all right. It's always this same argument you use to win. How unimaginative."

"I think the plan's imaginative enough, all right." Krasus laughed humourlessly. "The meeting's starting soon… I'll make the trip today right afterwards."

"Just make sure you're not noticed, oh-so-wise and powerfully witty master. Try to be restrained when convincing the one almost as ancient as yourself, eh? We don't need mongrels added to this insane mix."

Krasus sighed. Having Rhonin for a protégé wore his patience thin all too easily, as ancient as he was. And Rhonin was really quite hypocritical… who exactly was the one that had already produced mongrels in his own home? Nevertheless, determined to end all this ridiculous chatter for now, Krasus noted to Rhonin mentally, _here they come_.

Krasus was right. A storm passed unnoticed, for the fifth time, as the Six gathered in the chamber of air discussed the latest happenings.

"The Blues are moving. We have intelligence that states Dalaran won't be their first target. Also, we've received news that the night elves were attacked recently." Rhonin's voice carried across.

"Where do you think they'll strike?" This came from Archmage Runeweaver, the previous Master of the Kirin Tor and its High Council.

"We've received information from Archmage Proudmoore, the ruler of Theramore, that the night elven High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind suspects that Kalimdor's humans and orcs will be struck at first. She has requested a meeting, and she intends to bring along her aide, Magna Aegwynn. I am in favour of granting her an audience."

"Agreed. This is far too important to delay." Drenden's normally composed voice had the slightest hint of a shudder; the real war was about to begin soon.

"I'll tell Alvareaux to arrange one with her tomorrow right after breakfast." Rhonin took charge of the situation easily.

"Not as important as breakfast to _certain_ wizards, Drenden. I only hope she will be worth my time." The grumble came from the usual source.

_Only for Archmage Proudmoore_. Krasus said with a firm voice right into Rhonin's mind, with a meaningful nod at Rhonin to ensure he got the message.

"They have gathered their resistive strength at Theramore, though they're planning to stage the battle away from the city. They believe that only the spellcasters will be attacked." Rhonin informed the Council as he tactfully sidestepped Modera's comment and acted as if Krasus hadn't said anything.

"Bet you learnt that from Alvareaux." Modera sniffed at Rhonin; she was one of the High Council who had opposed Rhonin's ascension to the supreme decision making body of the Kirin Tor.

"What matters is the information itself, not the petty details." Krasus admonished Modera, and she whipped her masked face at Krasus. Krasus knew her eyes would be full of spite and venom. "We should take advance action, send some mages over to help Theramore. I have a plan..."

"Oh, here comes Krasus and his fool's errands again. Just like the last time, sending in a single mage to free the Dragon Queen, imprisoned as she was by the orcs, and to challenge the Dark One. No thought about the consequences at all." Modera directed her speech derisively at both Krasus and his protégé.

"It ended rather well, as I recall." Even Drenden, Modera's longest-standing friend on the Council, knew when it was time to stop Modera from going too far overboard. "Go on, Krasus, tell us your plan this time..."

* * *

_Like I said in the previous chapter, apologies for the major overhauls/redo-s. I'm kind of a grammar, subject-verb-object, structure, spelling, language accuracy, vocab freshness etc etc freak, so the documents were reworked and streamlined to cut the loopholes and deepen the characterisation._

_Did you guys enjoy the first part of this as much as I did? Like I said, character written based on the archetype of a very, very good real-life friend... P.S., I hope you will enjoy the High Council cause there's going to be quite a fair bit of them in the upcoming two chapters (yup they have already been written and polished twice over!)_

_But they're not out cause I decided on a **weekly Sunday release** (see my profile!)_


	7. Meeting

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 7: Meeting**

"I'm going!" Jaina yelled as she rushed down the stairs, where Aegwynn was sitting and eating her breakfast in peace. Despite having lived on vegetables for centuries, she found that her taste buds had turned traitor. She didn't mind, however, as she wolfed down another slice of bacon before replying to her upstart apprentice/employer, who was also incidentally her first human (and non-thunder-lizard) friend in centuries.

"Going?"

"The High Council meeting!" Jaina thoughtlessly waved a parchment under Aegwynn's nose, literally, with an air of importance. The parchment that had, just minutes ago, been utterly blank, but now read "_Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage, Ruler of Theramore. Please report punctually for your meeting with the High Council and bring this along as proof of your identity. Archmage Alvareaux, on behalf of the Kirin Tor High Council_". Alvareaux, the Quartermaster of the Kirin Tor's High Council, was unfailingly prompt with his work and even spared effort to send reminders to wizards before meetings with the High Council, despite his exponentially increased workload given the incumbent magical war. It was good for blur, overworked and estrogen-rush prone wizards such as Jaina, Aegwynn mused. Jaina had a penchant for vivacity and effervescence in the most inappropriate moments. Such as breakfasts. And these announcements usually ended only in one manner. Aegwynn sighed as she chewed hurriedly on a piece of pork; in five minutes she might no longer be at the table, if things turned out the way they usually turned out. "So, when're we going?"

Jaina looked slightly apologetic. "I forgot to tell you. I requested yesterday to meet with the Council concerning the supposed invasion of Kalimdor..."

"Yes, I know, I – _grunt_ – helped you draft that letter, didn't I?" The very old lady spewed out as she struggled to push down copious amounts of food. Aegwynn had been eating more and more, recently. _Right before _he_ came_.

"Well, yes, so you know already!" Jaina embarrassedly continued. "They allowed me to go meet the High Council, but they stated explicitly that no one was to come along, because I asked in the letter if you could accompany me... but you know that already."

"Oh." Aegwynn slowed down her eating, thankful that she would not be suddenly whisked off to a different continent in the middle of breakfast. Jaina took this as disappointment and hurriedly reassured her. "Don't worry! I don't know what secrets those old geezers want to preserve, but there's nothing I would hide from you for them. It's really quite ridiculous, denying you entry. I bet it's to enhance their mystique and hint at top secret secrets and all..."

"Maybe it's a top-_top_ secret." Aegwynn said jokingly, as she thought, _that even you may not be allowed to know... yet_.

"Maybe," came the doubtful response, "but anyway you'll know everything I get to know! I'm off now!" And without further ado, as was her style, bands of blue light encircled her tight feminine form as she teleported away.

Aegwynn was left chewing the last piece of bacon, suppressing the slight pang of guilt that welled up from Jaina's words. All those years of living in solitude and getting rid of human emotions, all dumped out the window with the arrival one day of a little young upstart pixie-like girl intruding upon her relatively humble abode deep within Kalimdor. _I'm sorry I can't say the same for you yet, Jaina, but you'll know it soon anyway..._

_

* * *

  
_

Jaina teleported into a non-descript hall, holding the piece of parchment which had formed the location for her and given her that tenuous mental link to the upper levels of Dalaran's central structure, accessible only to the highest echelons of the Kirin Tor and occasionally their guests. Even apprentices had to be left behind until they had, at least, achieved the title of Mage and were on some secret mission for the High Council. Generally one only saw Archmagi on this level, not that there were many left after Kel'Thuzad's defection, the coming of the Legion and the invasion of the Scourge...

Jaina shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts. Her thoughts had been straying from important things too often recently. The parchment she held suddenly flared with an intense ruby aura, and a mage clothed entirely in crimson appeared right beside her. He must have been powerful; she had not even sensed spellcasting. Even as distracted as she was, she should have been alerted. Perhaps it was an innate defence of this level, though she did sense, faintly, powerful wards which guarded the level and the entire structure and some which extended to the whole of Dalaran... and she was drifting again. Jaina shook her head ferociously, once more, as the stranger regarded her with amusement.

"Shall we?" As Jaina looked up to respond, she took a step backwards instinctively. The scarlet stranger was faceless! Well, not entirely faceless, she supposed; it was just a spell that she could easily cast and rip off. Though she might not have it too easy; this stranger likely had hidden talents.

"Uh, sure... you like red?" Jaina's attempt at small talk to get more information from the stranger spluttered off pathetically.

The stranger regarded her closely. Only then, instinctively looking away from his intensely scrutinizing eyes, did she realize her own eyes were half-closed. As she looked back, she realized that the stranger was actually wearing nondescript, standard Archmage robes with the usual decorating stars... strange. She could have sworn he was covered from head to toe in red.

"Archmage Jaina Proudmoore... surprisingly sensitive for one so young. Hold on tight." The stranger seemed to be speaking to the air, but Jaina took the last part of what he said as meant for her, and gripped the stranger's forearm as she felt a familiar whirling sensation...

...and she suddenly found herself in a strange room. It was as if she was standing in the skies. The clouds rolled past peacefully and wan sunlight spilled through the cracks of the cloud cover. It was a beautiful scene.

"Archmage Jaina Proudmoore. Welcome." A gentle voice carried soothingly across the sky, and Jaina turned around to see a stouter wizard than the red wizard who was slightly plump and also wore a mask. Other wizards were teleporting in as he spoke; she could sense their magical signatures. She recognized this particular voice from somewhere, however, and levelled her gaze squarely on that wizard.

"No greeting whatsoever? Honestly, the insolence of the new generation..." A lean, tall-ish woman spoke to Jaina as she strutted to the centre of the room.

"Don't be so hard on her... she's still so young..." This voice was that of an elf!

"Already terrorizing our guest, I see..." A strident, strong and self-assured male voice broke in; with far too much confidence.

"And so our dear Council convenes again..." The newest arrival sounded like he was the oldest wizard present. Perhaps it was fatigue.

"Come," said the red wizard, pulling Jaina along as he, too, moved to the middle.

"The High Council approved yesterday a request from Archmage Jaina Proudmoore to meet with the High Council, alone. And so here we are today." The confident male intoned, standing in the middle of the circle of wizards in the center of the room. A bolt of lightning struck past him as he finished speaking.

Jaina was annoyed with their poor sense of humour and theatrics. They clearly had a code about not naming anybody when in the presence of a stranger, and all this mystique was beginning to eat at her patience. They were practically begging for a magical slap. But she restrained her wilder self, and moved to the centre of the room grudgingly, deciding to obey the will of the High Council – in this meeting at least – which was expressed through rather indiscreet hand-gestures, particularly from tallish woman.

"I pay my respects and gratitude to the High Council and its Master. I'm here to give rather distressing news, actually. Just recently, I was contacted by the High Priestess –"

"How recently?" Jaina was abruptly cut off by the tallish woman.

"Yesterday, actually." Jaina was perplexed; she had no idea how that piece of information could be significant. _Oh well_, she supposed, _it is one of the High Council members after all. She must have _some_ reason for asking_. "As I was saying, I was contacted yesterday by a High Priestess of Elune, one of the forefront leaders of the night elves –"

"We know that. We don't need _you_ to tell us." Jaina was, again, interrupted by the same tallish woman.

Jaina was feeling annoyed now. The tallish woman spoke as Aegwynn normally did to Jaina, except much more brusquely, with an air of superiority, with less grace, with less familiarity and with thinly veiled contempt. It would take much to repair her severely damaged opinion of the High Council now;

"_As I was saying_, High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind..."

"I knew she was an insolent, arrogant young upstart..." The tallish woman didn't bother to lower her volume as she turned to speak to the stout man.

"If the High Councillor would consent to _not constantly butting in unceremoniously and disrupting this 'insolent, arrogant young upstart'_, I might be able to finish what I came to say before dusk tomorrow!" Jaina was pissed; she never had tact as a young woman meeting all those friends of her father's who acted high and mighty, and she certainly didn't intend to treat someone of the same rank as her (even if the some in question was a member of the reputed High Council) any differently.

The confident male barked a short, sharp laugh. "She's got you there, Modera!" The elf and the red wizard chucked briefly, too.

Modera whirled on the male angrily. "Absolutely no respect for protocol! And encouraging her in her defiance of the High Council!"

"What transgressions has Archmage Proudmoore committed aside from incurring your wrath, _High Council Member Modera_? Would you like to substantiate your case with evidence? Perhaps you might want to testify against the lady. I believe you've complained to us about practically every being that has ever set foot in Dalaran since you've joined the High Council. Watch your words, Modera, or the young lady might take it as a formal challenge to a duel. And, for the record, the only one with no respect right now, right here, is the one who just so _insolently_ reprimanded the Master of the High Council for not following protocol."

"Master, pft! You're just another one of those lousy newcomers. You're only in that position because you're fresh, don't you ever forget that, you twerp. And you _named_ me in the presence of an _outsider_! Every one of our _lawful _conventions go against that!" Modera had visibly taken umbrage; she now stood directly opposite the confident one and raised her hands threateningly.

The red wizard stepped in between them, before the confident one could retort. "Calm down. Is this how the High Council of the Kirin Tor conducts itself, especially in the presence of an _honoured guest_? While Jaina Proudmoore is an Archmage, she is free to see herself as equal to any of us, and her magic powers are not insignificant. You'll do well not to belittle her. Furthermore, she's the Ruler of Theramore, daughter of Admiral Proudmoore of Kul Tiras, and as such should be treated as we do any other foreign ruler. And, finally –" here the red wizard's voice became quieter and severe, "Modera, you're have a habit of signing yourself off as 'Modera of the Six', so I hardly think your seat on this Council, if the validity of which is somewhat dubious to those who know what you're like, is a state secret. If you're sensible, you'll refrain from invoking such laws here in our High Council against the Master. You _can_ and _will_ be expelled from this Council for such action, should you lose the case. I doubt even your notorious pride would push you so far. Back down while you still can."

The old one sighed as the stout one shook his head, almost imperceptibly. With an uppity "hmph", Modera crossed her arms defiantly but did not speak further. The elf just nodded at Jaina. "Do continue, youngling. Take no notice of the senile mutterings of us ancient ones."

Jaina doubted that there was more than one senile wizard in that room (who was likely an old, feeble and odious female), but did not articulate that particular thought. She could be more venomous than the poisoned thistles that the Dryads used against enemies of the forest, sometimes, and usually rightly so. Part of her sharp tongue had been inherited from Aegwynn, actually. But she derailed that train of thought and continued.

"The High Priestess warned me that the Blue Dragonflight is aiming to attack Kalimdor. This was revealed to her when an emissary of the Blues went to request alliance with the night elves on the pretext of fighting orcs. This blue dragon was subsequently expelled from night elven lands by the High Priestess herself. Apparently, as a form of revenge or warning, a group of blues then attacked the night elven forests, and their magical assault was barely repelled by progeny of demigods sided with night elves. Currently, as the situation stands, night elven leadership is split on the issue of the Blue Dragonflight's declaration of war. While the High Priestess and her sect of Sisters of Elune, along with the Sentinels, stand in staunch opposition to the blue dragons, the current leader of the druids, Archdruid Fandral Staghelm of the Cenarion Circle favours active support of the blue dragons. While this news is highly disturbing, we can take solace in that the loyalists to Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage, namely those druids of Moonglade and the Keeper of the Grove Romulus, as well as the non-night elven druids will not consent to support either Staghelm or his policy in this war. The High Priestess has said that, depending on the outcome of discussion, she might be able to lead a small force to support us, though it is unlikely she will do so as it could provoke a night elven civil war."

"Civil war even within the night elves, that most ancient of races… how disturbing." The elven voice carried no worried inflection as it spoke, however; everyone was fully aware of the rivalry between the night elves and their defecting high elven cousins (now Blood Elves) that had stemmed from the Sundering almost ten thousand years ago.

"Civil war occurs even within the most ancient races." The red wizard said, nodding meaningfully.

"Ah yes, the support of the Red Dragonflight. For that feat you have our eternal gratitude, Kra- uh, Councillor." The stout one nodded at the red one, nearly saying aloud his name but catching himself in time.

Jaina now openly stared at the red one with fierce, unmasked curiousity… who was this "Kra" red Archmage who had concealed his presence from her and warned down his fellow Council members _and_ apparently single-handedly convinced the Red Dragonflight to side the humans against the Blue Dragonflight? Kra… Kra… she was close to recognizing him, she knew it, but the name just refused to reveal itself to her as she dug up ancient wells of memory from her time in Dalaran under Antonidas. This wizard must have been in the Kirin Tor for a long, long time…

_Krasus!_

Epiphany brought about a newfound, total respect. Even Antonidas had paid homage to Krasus, noting that the extent of Krasus's power was unknown even to him. Not just magical power – Krasus wielded far more political power than anyone really knew, so Antonidas had once confided to Jaina. And his political power was not limited to humans… The mysterious Krasus, shadowy wizard of the Kirin Tor, had disappeared during the siege of Dalaran where her beloved mentor had fallen. She had thought him dead and forgotten, but it was apparently not so…

_Damn, why didn't Arthas take Modera down, too? And, by the gods, _Krasus! To _have convinced an entire _Dragonflight!

"Let's cut the banal banter and return to the issue at hand," said Modera irritably; she apparently didn't like her peers complimenting Krasus.

"Very well. Lady Proudmoore, after having received your letter yesterday, the High Council already met up and agreed to a plan of action proposed by one of our own, which is simple and should be effective" – here the old one nodded at Krasus – "and was met with few, if any, disagreement, mostly of a minor sort from certain colleagues" – and here he nodded to Modera – "and the High Council of the Kirin Tor has voted, unfortunately not unanimously, to adopt this plan of action."

Stupid, annoying, useless Modera. Jaina doubted that any of _Krasus's_ plans would have major problematic points… likely it just met with problematic people. Jaina sympathized with the High Council for having such a crabby colleague. But Jaina programmed a curious face, and asked, "so what's the plan?"

"We do not intend to send forces to aid the defense of Kalimdor. This is because our strategy focuses on Dalaran, where we are strong and have support from the Red Dragonflight. Only when all the resistance gathers do we have a chance against the powers arrayed against us. However, this does not mean we are prepared to abandon Kalimdor," the confident one reassured Jaina, seeing her dismayed expression, and ploughed on, "and the priority is to slow the advance of the Blue Dragonflight's invasion. In this regard, what your resistance on Kalimdor will need to do is to beat back the Blues, try to down a few of them and crush any support they have. When the time is ripe or when you have reached your limits, push the Blues back and hold them. We will teleport all your forces out of Kalimdor directly into Dalaran. The Council will make preparations to lower the wards of Dalaran for that split second for us to teleport your forces in here."

"That would be running! I can't abandon my people to those monsters! Besides, I teleported myself in here just fine…"

"Can you say that the orcs can teleport themselves, too? Or that you have sufficient power to move everyone cross-continent? Impertinent, impudent girl, think before talking!"

"That's quite enough," growled the confident one to Modera before turning to Jaina once more. "But she's right: any allies which gather with you will not be able to move by themselves. Furthermore, you came in because of the bypass you're holding in your hand… it looks innocent enough, but the magic weaved into the message we sent makes it such that if anyone holding it tried to teleport into Dalaran and wasn't the person the paper was intended for, the paper would self destruct and the person would be bounced right out by our wards. And with regards to your people, the Blue Dragons only seek the destruction of magic-wielding individuals, and your prolonged presence in Kalimdor endangers your people instead of protecting them."

Jaina was dumbfounded. "So I'm actually a danger!? Why don't you want keep my sorry butt off the continent, then?"

"Like we said, the orcs can't move themselves. Besides, we need a stalling action on Kalimdor. We have a plan, like we said. We – meaning me and my colleague –" the confident one nodded to Krasus "–will go to set up certain magical traps designed to ensnare especially the blue dragons. _And_ we'll be your emergency pickup. It's all planned, don't worry. We took into account the orcs and trolls and everything."

"Speaking about that, how did you know about the orcs joining us? And what trolls?" Jaina looked dubiously at them.

"A lucky guess." Krasus turned to her; he had apparently been lost in his own thoughts. _I should've known. That's the only one of them who's as useful as the High Council makes it out to be. Probably behind everything useful the High Council ever did…_

"We shall now move onto the next half of the agenda." This came cheerfully from the confident one, and from the body language of the rest Jaina suspected the other mages – aside from Krasus – had not been let in on anything like this on the agenda for today's meeting.

"Here they come…"

* * *

_I'm sorry for the lack of advance notice, but I decided two weeks ago (during the publishing of Chapter 06) that I would halt my publishing for one week and do double this week instead! :D Extra treat to readers who like this story k! Yeah, Modera's a pain in the ass as usual..._

_Made minor edits to 06, of course. Not a full revamp like last time, so your mailboxes are saved ;p Also, have been rather caught up with work and play, and decreased writing overall, so I will have to concentrate if 09 is to be out on time. The plot was sketchy but it's forming up now..._

_PS: I've recently taken a liking to Kimi ni Todoke and Sand Chronicles, and am rereading Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles and Skip Beat!. Also just finished watching Code Geass. If any of you like those too, please mail me ahaha. :)_


	8. Aspects

Disclaimer: While I authored this piece, only the novelties belong to me, and they are mostly based on original Blizzard concepts – so they belong to Blizzard, as well. Please do not copy any portion of the text without permission from respective authorities (in this case, Blizzard or me). But quotes are acceptable :)

**Chapter 8: ****Aspects**

"I'll go get them." With a slight wave of his hand, Krasus disappeared from the room. Jaina could sense the magical signatures of one, two, three new Archmagi. Four mages suddenly materialized in the room.

"Welcome, Archmage Khadgar, Archmage Vargoth and Archmage Baratea." From the looks on their faces, they didn't know what this was about, either. The confident one turned to address all present.

"For some time now, the High Council has maintained a certain system, passed down from generation to generation. The _Mastership Ranking_." All the mages of the High Council visibly relaxed at this; they appeared familiar with it. Except Modera, who stiffened. Jaina bet her eyes must have narrowed; it seemed so _Modera_.

"As you know – or not – this system is kept a highly intimate secret, known only to the High Council. It's still fully functional despite having been cast before I became Master, and even I do not know all its intricacies. The High Council members only know their own ranks and the name and rank of those below them. And the Master alone knows the full list, unless the top-ranked is a High Councillor aside than the Master. Wizards who are ranked will not know their own ranks unless they are members of the High Council. For ages, this system has operated and updates itself monthly, the spell sustained by High Council Masters. Its decisions are indisputable; even the Master may not contest its rankings unless he tampers with the spell."

"Policy has been that this system remain completely secret, information only for the Master's eyes, unless in dire emergency. As Master, I have overridden that policy in view of the current crisis. All the mages gathered today in this room are on the rankings. The rankings only take into consideration the top mages of the Kirin Tor, so not everyone has a rank. Essentially, we're looking at the crème-de-la-crème."

"Congratulations to all of you in this room. I hereby proclaim you as Ranked Archmagi. You are called upon to serve, to fulfill your duty to Dalaran and to stay true to the pledge of loyalty you made when first inducted into our Order. While it might be hard for you all to forgo or even renounce some of the portfolios, commitments and relationships you currently hold, make no mistake – your first priority goes straight to the Kirin Tor. Not just the High Council, but to every one of your brethren. For if we fall, we fall together. But, we will not fall if we stand firm."

"Fellow Archmagi, you are dismissed. Archmage Alvareaux _should_ be waiting outside to bring you to our dining hall for refreshments and then show you to your new quarters in this very building… if you would please. We shall meet again at a later date to discuss the details. The High Council meeting with Archmage Proudmoore is also hereby concluded. Archmage Proudmoore, if you would like care to rest in Dalaran for awhile, I would be delighted to host you. Krasus and I will catch up with you in Theramore shortly; we have some unfinished business here. Do stay here and enjoy the refreshments provided."

Recognizing a dismissal when they heard one, the stunned Archmagi were teleported out one by one, and the High Council members took their leave, until only Modera, Drenden, Rhonin and Krasus were left. "Don't think you're off the hook," hissed Modera before she turned haughtily to the Drenden and said, "we're going." And she vanished. The stout, pudgy wizard sighed. "Do try to have patience with her; we've known her so long already." And he, too, was gone.

_Finally_. Privacy.

"Krasus, you're sure this was the right thing to do…"

"Quite certain."

"How did your mission go?"

"Success… it was hard, dealing with Cedric. It's always these things, for the 'greater good', that make me feel guilty…"

"Just like the last time you got me to free Alexstrasza, eh?"

"You and Ysera woke me to the fact that we can't chalk everyone's values up with numbers alone. My worldview was changed rather significantly by that, too. I've strayed too far from my core values as a member of the Red Dragonflight, having lived amongst you quarrelsome wizards for so long… it was a difficult decision, one I will regret."

"Oho! Red dragon; I might have known. Your kind are particularly expressive, lively and virile, if memory serves. Nothing difficult about it except Cedric, really." A new voice, strident and confident, joined the fray as the owner appeared out of nowhere. "Difficult as difficult to persuade, I mean; after all that bluster he turned out to be a pushover…"

"I don't think _you_ participated in that battle," Krasus observed mildly, tactfully ignoring the comment on his kind. "Although admittedly I would have hoped for more of a challenge…"

"You were here all along? Krasus, you were right! I never really thought your scheme would work so well… That was excellent cloaking; I couldn't sense you at all!"

"Hmph, child's play. You're not the only one who didn't sense me… only 'Krasus' would have been able to tell, really. Yes it _was_ a success. Though don't count your chickens before they hatch. I'm still very new, per se, to all this, and keeping it a secret's gnawing at me more than anything I ever did to Cedric. That pompous, power-hungry, petulant prat… honestly, humans these days…"

"It isn't just the _humans_. Alexstrasza recounted to me a meeting of the Aspects that happened just a few days ago." Krasus seemed worried.

"Tell us about it, then. I think the primary defenders of Dalaran do have the right to know the fate the big ones have chosen for us." The other mage gave a rueful grin, to which Rhonin nodded his support.

Instead of replying, Krasus closed his eyes, and mental images assailed the two as they relived an experience…

* * *

_Mountains passed by quickly as moisture cooled the face and body; she was flying through the cloud cover. Without warning, the towering red dragon fluttered down to a level which rippled. The air itself twisted and wriggled like ripples on the surface of a pond which had a frog constantly jumping in and out. The dragon queen calmly entered the colossal wrinkle, and they were suddenly in a vast cavern, so spacious that the red was but a fly within the space which seemed outerworldly. The walls were smooth yet curved, and only the floor was flat… it was a perfect dome. A name came to the mind – the _Chamber of the Aspects._ A warm, golden illumination filled the chamber; a comforting glow which welcomed guests yet acted as sentinel…_

_Alexstrasza fluttered down to where a silver-blue dragon whose body was streaked with scars waited with a huge grin. _"The timeless one keeps us waiting again," _Malygos proclaimed jubilantly, yet it seemed slightly forced now. Alexstrasza remembered the times when they had truly been happy together, the five of them, as close comrades and counterparts. It had never been the same after that betrayal, and new rifts threatened to split them further yet…_

_Outwardly, Alexstrasza showed none of her deeper thoughts_. "Indeed, he does," _commented Alexstrasza with a wry grin. The chamber was suddenly filled with sand and a sense of timelessness, as the sand coalesced into a single bronze being which looked tiredly at the other two._

"Impressive as always, Noz."_ Malygos seemed determined to be cheerful today._

"Let'ss be quick… sso much to record, sso much to catalogue, sso much time passess…" _Nozdormu sounded far grumpier than the other two._

"Wouldn't you rate this as important enough? We'll start as soon as Ysera arrives…" _Here the slightest hint of apprehension entered Malygos's voice, as if it would have been favourable to him if Ysera did _not_ appear_.

"My sister tells us to go ahead without her; she will not be coming today." _Alexstrasza intentionally omitted, and as she had expected, Malygos's grin widened – sincerely, this time_.

"Let's start, then! Pleasantries aside – I must say, it _is_ good to see all you old fellows once more – I called everyone here today to discuss a very _very_ important issue. It involves denying the Burning Legion from entering our world once more, which calls for constant vigilant supervision of every single magic-user on this planet by us – which is quite impossible – or the elimination of rogue mavericks."

"I know where you're going… get to the point, Malygoss, we do not have much time to sspare… what do you want from uss?"

_Malygos grinned guiltily at the other two Aspects._ "Well, I've volunteered my flight to take the first step in removing threats to our collective global security, but there's been disturbing rumours that certain dragons might want to oppose my campaign. As Master of Magic, I do feel it absolutely necessary to regulate magic use and outlaw rogue and reckless casting, and this starts with punishing offenders…"

"Ah… that would be _my_ flight, yes. It isn't a rumour; I believe I communicated it rather clearly in the mental message I sent to all Aspects, save the dark one. The Red Dragonflight stands by the Kirin Tor – the human organization of wizards running the human city of Dalaran. We will not condone any baseless slaughter of innocents, particularly innocents which have proven their worth in _defending_ the interests of our world." _Alexstrasza stood erect as she cut off all the sweet-talk by hitting the nail on the head with one blow._

"Well… there we might have a problem. Alex, I really don't want to get involved in a fight with you – it would truly be pointless, futile, and would weaken us all considerably! Particularly since we're natural allies looking to defend our world through collaboration. It's just that our jobscopes – magic and life, specifically – clash slightly in this area. While I do really admire your spirit in defending all life, you must admit that the humans have been making monkeys of themselves. Being a young race, I don't blame them for that, but their mistakes would cost _all_ of us dearly." _Malygos smiled wanly at Alexstrasza._

"State it clearly: what exactly have the humans done that has displeased you, Malygos?" _Alexstrasza kept her tone neutral if slightly sharp; she brooked no nonsense in this matter._

_Malygos's tone abruptly grew serious as his smile drooped. _"Well, take Kel'Thuzad for instance. He joined the Scourge and was most instrumental in bringing Archimonde into our world for the _second_ time, as if the first time weren't bad enough. He was one of their 'High Council', the top leaders of the entire show. And he blew it. And it's not just the humans… we're going to eradicate _all_ reckless spellcasting. That would be a far better way to defend lives, instead of inviting trouble from the Twisting Nether… I am quite resolved on this, dear Alexstrasza."

"And so am I. I flat-out refuse to allow you or your kin to lay a claw on the innocent inhabitants of Dalaran. If it comes down to a brawl, so be it. We're prepared, as your spies must have told you by now. It was really quite an uncouth way of making your intentions known, Malygos." _Alexstrasza's disapproval was clear for everyone to see_.

_Malygos's smile lost its flavor entirely; he now sighed before speaking to both Alexstrasza and Nozdormu_. "I was afraid it would come down to this. I hereby call a vote on draconic interference with the Blue Dragonflight's campaign. I cast my vote as AGAINST."

"And I FOR," _said Alexstrasza calmly_. "You shall not take away our right to resist mindless slaughter of life in such a fashion, however legal it appears."

"Nozdormu?" _The Blue's plans clearly hinged on the guardian of the ages, the Timeless One, who also appeared to be an expressionless one._

_Nozdormu turned to Alexstrasza and dipped his head._

"I undersstand your position… but I musst vote AGAINSST. I hereby oppose draconic intervention in this war."

_Alexstrasza gritted her teeth; Malygos cheered exuberantly. Nozdormu growled in annoyance, and continued when Malygos fell silent_.

"This does not mean I ssupport your war, Malygos. To the contrary, I utterly oppose, in principle, any invasion of Dalaran or other magic wielderss on the sole grounds of 'recklesss use of magic'. They are innocent until proven guilty. If they are not given the time to learn, how would it be fair to the other races who've enjoyed the benefitss of _time_? I oppose only because we have truly lost far too many of our kind, at the handss of not only the Burning Legion but also the Qiraji and the Old Godss in the War of the Sshifting Ssands… so many, all their pasts and futures lost… we _musst_ sstand united against the threat the Old Godss pose, and cannot splinter apart and attack each other for any of these relatively trivial issuess. I reiterate, I am AGAINSST. _Nozdormu sighed. _I am most apologetic, Alexstrasza, but I cannot allow you and yourss to defend the humans at the expense of letting cracks appear in our joint defense against the Old Godss."

"Well reasoned," _Malygos said sagely_. "Well, I guess that's it for today…"

"No. I have one more thing to say. While I am AGAINST and my flight will stay sstrictly neutral, by the High Father Aman'Thul, I will _personally_ make _anyone_ who attacks the red dragon Korialstrassz or his human guise Krasus pay dearly with time... I owe him a great favour, and I will _not_ allow him to be harmed due to petty wars with the humans. He is, after all, one of us, and I owe him a great debt. So do you, Malygoss, even if you do not know it yoursself… if not for Korialstrassz you could never have found your present conssorts… how do you think it came to be that blue dragon younglingss hatched _after_ that firsst coming of the Legion given your sstate of mind then, disinclined to worldly matterss? Not to mention how he gave us so much _freedom and time_ after ssaving us from the banes of the _Demon Ssoul_… tell your flight, Malygoss... that is, if you do not wissh for me to perssonally knock some _maturity_ into your flight_…_" _At the last, Nozdormu's golden eyes flared and all present felt time moving and warping around them according to Nozdormu's will. He wanted to ensure Malygos knew that he meant what he said._

_Malygos looked vaguely uncomfortable with Nozdormu's declaration, for all present knew Nozdormu could carry out any threat to make others "pay dearly with time", but he acquiesced. It was a small price to pay for Nozdormu's __pivotal aid in curtailing of the Red Dragonflight_. _Besides, now Korialstrasz could not interfere with Malygos's plans legally, and if he did Nozdormu might turn from him anyway._ "It shall be done," _he declared._

"With that, I declare this meet…" _Before Malygos could finish, however, a faint emerald form came into being from thin air. It never truly solidified, and was clearly an ethereal creature, with large antlers and four hooves and a thick mane comprised of flowing hair with tree-vines and leaves mixed in between strands._

"And who might you be?" _Malygos peered at the newcomer_.

[I am here in stead of Ysera, She of the Dreaming, as her proxy.] _The ethereal creature's words were broadcast directly into the minds of all those present. As if to affirm his words, the golden illumination embraced the new arrival with warmth, covering his entire ethereal self_. _Wasting no time, the creature pronounced immediately_ [I come here to cast her vote FOR intervention with the Blue Dragonflight's conflict.]

_Malygos's joy faded immediately, and hints of frustration appeared on his visage_.

"It is a stalemate," _noted Alexstrasza tonelessly; she seemed to have anticipated this occurance_. "With Ysera's proxy vote FOR, we are at 2 against 2. This means that our flights will act as we will."

"Our flights will act as we will," _grinded Malygos_. "I truly did not wish for it to come to this stage, for all our sakes, as Nozdormu has said."

[You did not wish for opposition to your campaign,] _corrected Romulus, who was present in his spirit-form – he must have travelled to this sacred hall through the Emerald Dream with the blessing of Ysera_.

_Malygos snapped at the Keeper_. "Watch yourself, youngling…" _Malygos then closed his eyes as if in deep thought; a cobalt aura surrounded his entire self, as the rest watched on with a perturbed expression. His eyes then suddenly blinked open, glowing with a cerulean glow as discharges of sapphire magics buzzed about_._ He enunciated magic words carefully in the sacred tongue of the creators, and all felt the power emanating from Malygos. Finally, he said the last word, and as it's echoes reverberated around the chamber, Malygos declared, _"With the passing of the Earth-Warder from our ranks, I claim the right of all Aspects to invoke the ancient compact binding demigods to their oath of fealty to the earth. I declare my flight's campaign as in the interests of protecting Azeroth, and by the compact no demigod, spirit of the earth or any of their kin may interfere against me. So let it be!"

[What…?] _Romulus stared at Malygos in shock as a green aura surrounded his entire body, and certain laws and conventions appeared forefront in his mind – laws he knew he could not disobey without shedding his attachment to the world… _

_Malygos smiled triumphantly at Romulus_. "The earth has recognized my invocation as lawful, and by the ancient decrees long laid by our creators, demigods, spirits of the earth and all of their kin are hereby bound by its magic. None may oppose me. Especially you, Keeper."

_Alexstrasza's eyes narrowed_. "_You_ would know how to twist ancient magic bindings to your command… We shall await you at Wyrmrest. I pray that you will come to your senses before Nozdormu's fears come to pass… _he_ of us all would know what lies in store along the path you have forced us upon."

"If only you listened… oh well, all's well that ends well, eh, sister? I bid you farewell… and I truly hope we will not meet next on a battlefield. It still is your choice." _Thus closing the session, Malygos launched himself upwards and soared off. Nozdormu dissolved once again into sand, and the Keeper gave Alexstrasza a regretful glance before dissolving back into the Dream…_

_

* * *

  
_

… and their minds slowly came back to the present.

"So that's it. I suspect that the Keeper might send help by proxy, anyway, likely in the form of the High Priestess."

"Damn that Malygos…"

"What's done is done, Rhonin. We'll just have to find more ways. The demigods likely would not have interfered, anyway…"

"Alright, topic closed, I take it. Back to what we were talking about, then – ranking! Despite all my boasting about the Master's knowledge, with the addition of you as a new element the system can't keep up. I don't want to wait so long. We're adding that new number in front, so which of you…?"

"Not me." Krasus's voice said flatly. "It's better this way; like I told you last time, the human race's champion should be a human. Logical. I shouldn't have been included at all, really…"

"Better that way, Master. Though you're right – the system did not recognize you, but I believe Antonidas did something about that before, from what I can see. He didn't tell you, eh? Bet the geezer got a shock…" Rhonin dropped his mask and grinned roguishly. "There's no point masking myself anymore; I'm in the presence of two far beyond me. And, Modera, heh, I always knew she was all bark and no bite."

"I think you'd better go soon; she's finishing up downstairs and you don't want to be seen here…"

"You're right. Thank you, and I apologize for my initial refusal to your proposal. Yes, you were right, I feel so much better now, and I guess I never truly hated what I did before. I'm quite a difficult person to deal with at times, so your headache's just started, though!" The crisp voice finished off jovially before the speaker teleported.

"It's starting now… we'll see how we fare in this initial skirmish, then."

"It isn't really just a delaying action, is it, Master?"

"No, of course not. Why do you think I made you roll out the _Mastership_ if it were? Remember who we're sending on the front lines."

"I see – our middle one, huh. You _really_ planned everything, then… Let's pray she's as good as the system made her out to be, or really everyone else here save those higher ranked would be utterly useless."

"Yes," came Krasus's troubled voice, "let's hope so…"

* * *

_Krasus, crisis... so similar, don't you think? And Krasus is always in the middle of it!_

_I hope you liked this week's double issue, makeup for last week's lack of uploading! :D Yeah well I decided for it to be a double week, much like the WSJ. If you've noticed, these two chapters - 07 & 08 - are really complimentary and essentially 08 is a continuation of 07, so most relevant as a double issue heh! I'll probably re-edit again next week if I have the time._

_Yes, I hope to bring in Dhak and Dhuk again soon; I love Dhuk's character archetype especially...! (I'm rather abusive to those kind of people, by the way, hehe...) And don't worry, I haven't forgotten Kalimdor nor Sylvanas... they'll really be involved. Nor the great black dragon... and the Scourge will make their appearance later in this series, if all goes to plan. For now, hold on tight as we take back to Kalimdor soon. (Read my 07 comments to find out manga you can talk to me about, aside from the Big Three - especially Kimi ni Todoke!)_

_Take these two chapters as a belated Christmas present to readers who enjoy this series, too! MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL! :D_


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